Ohio
by musicbendr
Summary: Something in Spencer's life is missing, and she can only find it in her childhood home of Ohio. Spashley. I know it's a bad summary, but give it a chance. It's fluffy and dramapacked. Rated for language.
1. Friday Nights and Saturday Mornings

**A/N:** This is totally AU. Basically it's Spashley (eventually) and is about Spencer working out some issues. I really don't know how to describe it without giving too much away. Please review, as this is my first SON fic. And I hope to update at least once a week, but I can't make any promises.

It's always the summers I think of when I think of my family. I remember the mid-June days in Ohio when the heat seemed unbearable, even though most temperatures only hit the upper eighties. It was on these days when we would jump off the rickety pier behind our house, me and Glen and Clay. We'd play in the water for awhile; Marco Polo or water tag, but mostly Star Wars. Glen would be Darth Vader, and Clay would be Luke. I'd be Leia, but would get in the fight with Vader, too. Then we'd get bored and ask my dad to come in with us. He'd always be sitting with Mom on the deck chairs reading a news magazine, shirt off and swim trunks ready to go. Dad made a big show out of it every time. He postponed and debated with himself, causing us kids to laugh like there was no tomorrow. Finally, we'd yell at him enough and he'd come in. After he jumped in, Mom would get out an inner tube and float around with us, too, but only if we promised not to splash her. Then we'd climb back onto the pier, where Dad cooked an amazing dinner of hamburgers, hot dogs, French fries, and cole slaw, while Mom mixed a salad with her homemade dressing. We took our hamburgers and hot dogs and French fries on paper plates and carried them out to the edge of the pier with the cole slaw and the salad in bowls. We dangled our feet over the side and when we were done, Dad would pull out a box of ice cream sandwiches. Even Mom took one. The five of us smothered our faces in chocolate cookie and vanilla ice cream, laughing at who had the messiest face. Cleaning up didn't take too long, with all of us helping, and we usually made it out in time to catch the fireflies before Glen, Clay, and I had to go to bed, listening to the soft hum of the fan.

It's always these days that I think of when I see her. She never had a family to spend those summer days with. Even though she grew up in LA, there were still those peaceful, slow-moving days. And she couldn't walk along the palm trees or down the streets with anyone because she didn't have anyone. When she was older, she told me, she would walk down them alone, or with her friends. But never with her family. Because she didn't have my family.

We're caught in the middle, me and her. We're like a lake that's frozen over, but isn't solid enough to skate on. Like a song that's not fast enough to dance wildly to, but isn't slow enough for a slow dance either. We're like the time between autumn and winter that's too warm for a winter coat, but too cold for a fleece. We're at that awkward stage in a relationship. The one that follows a deep friendship, but isn't quite ready for a romantically passionate love.

So we sit and we talk. And sometimes we touch. Chastely. For now it's enough. But I don't know for how long it will be enough.

Ashley and I are out in the middle of Indianapolis on a Saturday night in mid-May. It's almost summer break from UCLA, and she's busy planning our summer trip. She's laughing and telling jokes, and all I can think of is the renewal of the LA summer heat for this year. We're walking home after a night out; nothing loud or anything, just the two of us having a casual dinner together. We did this every Saturday night. Then, we'd stop at the Blockbuster a couple streets down from our house and rent some stupid movie that we've always wanted to see, but never got around to it.

"So, what'll it be tonight?" she laughs as we walk in.

I'm saved from having to answer by Aiden, the check-out boy who's always on duty when we come in on Saturday nights. "Hey, girls." I assume that there's not much traffic around the store at this time, because Aiden always has at least equally cheesy two movies picked out for us.

And tonight is no different. Smiling his goofy grin, he puts the DVD cases behind his back and asks us to guess. Just like always.

"Left," Ashley says quickly. She picks left every single time, but that doesn't seem to bother Aiden.

"Good choice," he commends. Aiden pulls out a "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" DVD. "A very corny show."

"There's a movie?" Ashley wonders obliviously. Aiden smirks. She sighs. "What's option number two?"

Aiden whips out his other choice with flourish: "Moulin Rouge." "I figured this was right up your alley. Chick flick sort of thing."

Ashley snorts at him in response. "'Moulin Rouge?' I'd shoot myself before I ever watched that again."

I stare at her awestruck. "That's one of the best movies of all time! How do you hate it?"

She shrugs. "Not my type of show, I guess. Let's get something other than Aiden's choices."

Just like every week. We argue about one of the movies briefly (tonight briefer than usual), and then reject both choices. Aiden slumps behind the counter, depressed, like a dog being told its owner couldn't play fetch right now. Then we browse all the racks, and Ashley starts complaining about how TV shows are better than movies. I'll ask her why we don't rent some TV show boxed sets, and she disagrees and huffs, stating that we should just get a movie instead. That's what happens every week.

We settled on "Pride and Prejudice" after much begging on my part and promises that she could pick the next time. But she never picked the next time, because I always picked the movie, or we agreed on one.

Aiden pulls himself out of his swivel chair and rings us up at the cash register. "'Pride and Prejudice?'" he says. "What's with the retro?"

"It's not retro," I insist. "It's classic."

"Whatever." He hands to us without asking if we want a bag. We never do.

"Bye, Aiden," Ashley says with a little wave. We head home, walking in silence. But as soon as we open the door to our dorm, Ashley starts talking a mile a minute as she changes into her pajamas- tonight, a T-shirt and bootie shorts. It's hot in LA, and our air conditioning doesn't work.

"So, you wanna make some popcorn?" she asks. I'm lost, not listening, seeing the summer night outside and noticing the lack of fireflies.

"Huh?"

"Popcorn. What's with you Spence?"

I shake my head as I get undressed awkwardly. "It's nothing. Just summer haze."

"I so get that," Ashley laughs. It's always good to see her laugh, especially since she rarely does it around the time when we have our finals. She flops down on the bed dramatically, and I allow myself to giggle. "Why can't school be over already?"

"'Cause it's not?" I'm dressed, and I feel better now. She moves over to her half of the bed. We have two beds, but on movie night, we always share one. Hers. On movie night, it's ours. We fall asleep, and I wake up, head on her chest, her nose buried in my hair. Always.

"Why're watching this movie?" she wonders as she throws it to me to put in to the DVD player.

"You could've said no," I point out, searching for the right button.

"I can never say no to you." Even though my back is turned, I can practically hear her grinning.

"Aw, how sweet," I joke. I climb into the bed, pulling the light sheet over me. I need some form of blanket over me; it's like a comfort. Even in the summer, I need it. I lean up against Ashley as the movie's opening credits begin.

I fall asleep before the end of the movie. I can never stay awake for the entire thing, mostly just a bit past the three-quarter mark.

The next morning, I shift and inch myself closer to Ashley's warmth. I hold onto her tightly while still being half-asleep, and then I realize that I didn't see the movie end. I shake her lightly, until she grumbles something about dish soap an opens her tired eyes.

"What happened?" We go through this every Saturday morning; she knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"That Darcy guy got with Kiera Knightley," she mumbles, throwing her head under the pillow, trying to shut out the world for just a little bit longer.

"That's it?"

"Yes. What time is it?" I look at the clock on the nightstand in between the two beds.

"8:30."

"Why are we up so early?"

"You don't have to get up."

She lifts her head up from the pillow and looks at me deeply. "But I want to."

And that's how it always is on those Friday nights and Saturday mornings.


	2. Phone Calls and Flashbacks

**A/N:** I'm on a roll with this story, and that usually happens before I crash and burn with no ideas for two months :) Anyway, the italics are flashbacks. Also, Harbor Hills, Ohio, is a real town. I just used it because it had a cool name. This story in no way reflects any of the views of the people in Harbor Hills and isn't meant to offend them.

**Disclaimer:** If it were mine, there would be more Spashley.

I spent all of that Sunday sprawled out over my bed, studying. Studying, studying, studying. Lots of studying. I'm an education major. I plan on being a high school English teacher. I've always loved kids. They're so fun and uninhibited, full of wonderment and questions, without prejudices. But if I wanted those kind of kids, I should have been an elementary school teacher. High schoolers are people; no longer kids. There's this stupid thought inside of me that maybe somewhere deep down, they still are kids. And if you leave in the right light for long enough, they'll always be kids. It's more of a wish than a thought, really. And wishes were never meant to come true.

Ashley left over an hour ago, to go and do something besides study. She's gone out to beach, I know. To sketch. Ashley's an art major, but she really loves photography, too. And music. The only thing she's not good at are any types of science. She leaves to sketch sometimes when she needs to clear her head, though I can't imagine what she needs to clear from it.

My phone rings, and the caller ID says it's my brother Clay, the only one from Ohio I still talk to.

"Hi, Clay. What's up?"

He chuckles. "Just calling to check up on my baby sister. How are finals going?"

I shrug. I know that he can't see me, but I tend to make motions when I talk on the phone. "Okay. Just two more left."

"That's good." He lets the silence hang over us for a moment, and I don't break it, because I know he has something to say. "Spencer, look, I know that... What are you doing this summer?"

I scrunch up my eyebrows, confused. I hadn't been expecting that. "Ashley and I are probably going to hang out at her place, maybe do a road trip. I don't know exactly. We haven't really talked about it. Why?"

"Because I want you to come home," he says plainly. And when he says anything that plainly, I can't resist. He just sounds so sad and needy.

"But I don't want to." It's incredibly selfish thing to say, I know, but going back means opening all the wounds I've worked so hard to stitch shut. And I don't know if I ready for the stitches to come out yet.

"Spencer." He has his serious voice on now, and I know that he needs me to come home. "I've only seen you three times over the past five years. Your nephew only knows you through pictures. I don't want him to grow up with Glen as his uncle, and no Aunt Spencer. I'm not asking you to see Mom or Dad or Glen and her, but _I_ want to see you._We_ want to see you. Me and Chelsea and Chris. Besides." I hear his tone change. "I want to see your girlfriend, too."

I squeal into the phone. "Clay! Ashley is not my girlfriend!" I sigh. "She doesn't even know I'm gay."

"Spencer, you live in LA. Nobody gives a shit. You came out in small town, Harbor Hills, Ohio. I think the fast-paced eccentric LA people won't care. And isn't Ashley a lesbian?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "But you don't get it, Clay. Sure to a degree, you can understand, but at some point, you can't."

"I know that. But hiding forever, is that how you want to live? You'll never be happy that way. And you can only get over that by coming home."

"I have to go." I hang up on him, slamming the phone shut. I bury my head into my pillow, letting tears fall down. I know he's right. I've known that for about three years. I desperately want to get back to being me, but it's hard. LA is so much more vague, less personal than Ohio. Everything is so chaotic, no one has any time to focus on individuals. In Ohio, in Harbor Hills, there's only about 1500 people. There's time to see the individuals. And that's what scares me.

But if I go back to Clay and Chelsea's house, it won't matter. I'll stay there, and I won't leave. I can meet my nephew, and see them. I could pretend that it wasn't Ohio. With Ashley there, it could be anywhere we wanted it to be. Until the town figures out that I'm back. I don't know.

I've spent the entire morning studying and thinking, and want a break. I debate about going over to Ashley on the beach, since I can't call her because she always turns her cell phone off at those times, but decided against it. Ashley's time is Ashley's time, and she doesn't need her whiny best friend interrupt it. I try to think about who I could call that wouldn't be studying, and finally come up with one person who never studies and believes that finals are a waste of time. It doesn't really matter how well she does at college, anyway: she's already got dance offers from lots of famous people, and a college education isn't always high on their qualifications list.

"Hey, chica," the voice on the other end says happily. "I'm guessing someone's ready for a study break?"

I laugh. "Yes, Madison, I am. Sick of studying to be a teacher."

"Good. Then I'll meet you at Park and Joe's in ten." She hangs up, knowing I won't disagree. I never turn down an invitation to Park and Joe's, a little deli-ice cream shop only a couple of steps from my dorm. It's my favorite restaurant in the entire city, even better than the really fancy ones Ashley sometimes treats me to on our Friday night "dates."

I throw on some real shorts and then head out the door after sticking a note for Ashley on her desk. LA is busy in the near summer, and I just like to watch the people passing by. Everyone calls me a slow walker- mostly Ashley, who complains about it. But I'm not. I just like to look at the people. I wonder who they are, how they got here, what's waiting for them at the end of their walk. Sometimes I think I wonder too much.

Madison is waiting for me in front of Park and Joe's. She must have already been there. Probably on a lunch date with some guy. She goes through boys like I go through pencils, maybe even faster. "Hey there, study girl. Where's the GF?"

I roll my eyes. Because Ashley and I are stuck at the hip, Madison calls us girlfriends. As in the dating type of girlfriend. "Out on the beach."

"She can be so anti-social," Madison deadpans, and then ruins the effect with a laugh. "Let's get some food."

We order and sit at an outdoor table, under an umbrella. She's chatting endlessly about her new boy toy. I'm watching the people go by.

White middle-aged man with brown hair and a calm smile, dressed in a suit.

Young black woman in a stylish outfit walking with a purpose.

Red haired teenage white boy in punk clothes and on a skateboard.

Purple spiky haired Asian teenage girl dressed in black trailing the red head on a bike.

"Spencer. Spencer!" Madison waves her hand in front of my face, looking concerned. "What's up with you? You haven't eaten, you won't talk. And it's almost summer!"

I shake my head looking down. "That's the problem. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself this summer."

"Just do what you always do," she states with a shrug, taking a salt and vinegar chip from my plate. She makes a face. "Seriously, you have weirdest taste in chips."

"I don't know if I only want to hang out with Ashley this year." And it was true. It's not like I don't want to spend time with Ashley; I just want to go back to Ohio. It's been five years since it's really been Ohio, and I've been missing it for a while. I feel like taking Ashley to Ohio would be the making or breaking point of my life. Ohio is one half of me, and Ashley is the other. Right now, they're at odds with each other. I can't have them both the way they are; they need be harmonious, or Ashley will have to leave, because no matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to get rid of Ohio.

"Oh?" Madison raises her eyebrows and looks at me intently.

"Yeah," I mutter slowly, not really looking at her. "I think... I think I might want to go back to Ohio."

Madison is silent. She knows more about Ohio than anyone else, including Ashley. But even Madison doesn't know the full story. All I've told her is that there's some bad blood back there, and I don't want to go back.

She swallows and asks a simple question: "Why?"

I sigh. Cliché as it may sound, the simplest questions really do have the hardest answers. Clay's talk this morning made me realize that I need to revisit these old demons, but I don't know if I can. I think on it for a while, and Madison doesn't say anything to break the peace, the bubble surrounding the two of us, blocking us from the LA lifestyle. Bringing me back to Ohio.

"_C'mon, Spence," Dad said happily, urging me to go play with the other kids. I was ten, and shy as anything. "They're really nice." I shook my head, holding tight to him. I looked over at the group of fifth graders, most of who I recognized from my class. Even though I'd be going into sixth grade next year, I hadn't developed very good social skills. _

"_I'm taking away your dessert for a week if you don't go talk to them," Dad threatened. _

_I stared at him with Bambi eyes, silently pleading for him not to send me. "I mean it , Spencer." _

"_Fine," I grumbled, stalking off toward the kids. Because no matter how scared I was of those kids, there was no way I would miss a week of the post-July 4th desserts Mom made with the left-overs from everything she baked for the barbecue, which, by the way, was where I was at that moment._

_I reached the group of kids, playing tag. One of them, Bobby Rinker, spotted me and asked, "Hey, Spencer, you wanna play?"_

_I nodded silently, timidly._

"_Okay," Bobby said. "It's regular tag, and Marcus is it. If you get it, you gotta yell your name real loud so everybody knows, 'kay?" I nodded again and then Bobby ran off. I didn't really know what to do. I just stood around, until I noticed Marcus coming for me. Luckily, he didn't see me, and I took off in the other direction._

_I ran around for awhile, until I found a tree that could easily be climbed. Not feeling much like running from the boy with snottiest nose in the school and being touched by his icky fingers, I grabbed onto the branches and hoisted myself up._

_In the tree, I was met with the shock of seeing Luke Miller's face. Luke was my best friend. He didn't act tough like most boys at the school; he had an open personality and wasn't afraid to cry in front of the class like the other boys. He played pretend with me, even though everyone teased us for it. _

"_I didn't know you were here," Luke said to me._

"_Same," I returned. Then I noticed another girl sitting in the tree next to Luke. She had long red, curly hair and bright green eyes. Freckles dotted her face, and her light pink top and jeans were covered with grass stains and dirt._

_Luke seemed to get that I didn't recognize the girl. "Oh. Spencer, this is Elle. Elle, this is Spencer. Elle just moved here. She's in our grade."  
_

"_Hi," I said, all the air going out of my lungs when she smiled. Luke, oblivious to the tension, just kept talking about Elle._

"_She's from Indiana and likes-"_

"_Luke," Elle interrupted. "I think I can tell Spencer about myself. By myself." We smiled at each other, and the world felt right._


	3. Hoagies and Chinese Food

**A/N:** I know this one's kind of short, but it seemed like a good place to end it. I'll try to update sometime tomorrow, but I can't promise. Thanks to the people who've reviewed so far. Everyone else who's reading without reviewing, please do.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

"I'm not sure why," I tell Madison. She raises her eyebrows. Since I accidentally told her about it two years ago, I've never once mentioned anything about going back. To Ohio. "Clay called this morning. Said I was running from everything, and I need to get my act together."

"Not to sound like an uber-bitch, but you _do_ need to get your act together," Madison informed me. "It's been five years, Spencer. That's a long time."

"But it's not enough time," I whine. That's exactly what I sound like: a whiny little baby. And I know it, but I can't shake the feeling. "It's not like I can forget."

"So don't forget," Madison says with an almost puppy look on her face. "Move on."

I look down at my half-eaten hoagie and twiddle my thumbs for a moment. "I can't."

"Don't say that," Madison implores. "You can. But you need Ashley."

"She knows less than you," I mutter bitterly. "She doesn't even know anything about it. I'm not ready to tell her about it." I'm just about ready to get up and leave, because I know what Madison's going to tell me next. She's going to tell me to tell Ashley about it, because that will help me get over it. And I don't want to here it.

"Then don't," Madison says with that same look and that obnoxiously endearing over-simplification of the problem. "I just think you should go to Ohio with her. Things will fall into place there."

I stare at her, my jaw dropped. "You want me to introduce Ashley to Ohio in the middle of it?"

She growls angrily at me, and I'm taken off guard. "Look, Spencer. I'm trying to give you advice, but it's a bit hard when you're hiding what I need to give you advice on. I don't know anything about Ohio at all. Just that your family sucked. Probably hated you because you were gay. But I'm guessing there's more to it than that. And if you won't tell me, then the only other person you would even consider telling is Ashley. I know that makes me sound like an egomaniac, but that's the truth, and you damn well know it is." By now people had turned their heads at us. I'd never seen Madison this... well, angry wasn't really the word. Frustrated. Hurt. Confused.

Loud would also be a good word.

"Madison." I didn't even know where to start. And then something hit me. "Wait, how do know I'm gay?"

"Please," she says with a roll of her eyes. "Like it wasn't obvious. Half-assed relationships with guys, all that ogling at the pool. I'm not stupid. I can see. Plus, I have the best gaydar west of the Mississippi."

I smile lightly at that, glad for the change of pace. But I know that Madison will return to deeper subjects in another couple of seconds. "Somehow I don't doubt that."

She shakes her head in a very sassy way. "Uh-uh. We aren't staying on that subject. You are going to Ohio this summer, and you are taking Ashley with you."

"And this was decided when?"

"Just now. You need to get over it. Five years, Spencer. People take less time than that to get over the deaths of special someones. No one died. Face your demons. Get the hell over it. Win your girl- or realize you love her, because there's no competition. Finally get laid."

I am horrified by that comment. Getting laid by Ashley, who I assumed she was talking about, is the furthest thing from my mind at this point. Though I will admit that sometimes, it isn't all that far. "Madison, it sounds so easy when you put it that way. But it's not."

"That," she informs me forcefully while taking another chip and making another face, "isn't true. It's easy. It's easy to go to Ohio with Ashley."

"No."

Madison smirks like she has a secret. "Well, I see it this way. You feel safe with Ashley, right?"

"Definitely." I say that without pause, without hesitance. Because I feel safer with Ashley than I've ever felt with anyone. It's that kind of safety you feel on the cold winter nights when you're cuddled up under a fuzzy blanket with your head scrunched into the pillow just right, and there's an amazing warmth that spreads all the way from the tip of your head to the bottom of your toes. It's a safety, the safety I feel with Ashley.

"Then take her to Ohio," Madison says yet again. "No matter what the location is, you will always feel safe with Ashley, and no amount of crazed homophobic family members is going to change that, okay? If you need to leave Ohio, metaphorically speaking, then Ashley is there for you. She's a safe place here, in Ohio, hell, she'd be your safe place in the middle of nuclear warfare. So go. Take your blankie with you."

I smile. And for a moment, I consider the possibility of going back.

"You wanna not hog all the mooshu pork, Spence?" It's Sunday night and Ashley and I are dining in, splurging on some Chinese food. We're sick of studying, but are making use of this last minute cramming time to quiz each other.

"Sorry." I hand her the box. We just eat eat right from little cartons with our own pairs of chopsticks. It's easier, and we don't want to wash the dishes.

"Okay." She settles in with the box of pork and my binder. "What is the difference between a participle and a gerund?" She looks at the book strangely because she has no clue what the question is talking about. But it's not her question to answer.

"A participle is a verb in either the past or progressive tense that functions as an adjective. A gerund is a verb in the progressive tense that functions as a noun," I rattle off.

"Woo-hoo," Ashley says sarcastically. "Look, Spencer, you're obviously going to pass with an amazing high score, so can we stop studying."

I launch myself into the pillow for the second time that day. "I'm just so stressed." But I'm not just stressed about the finals; I'm stressed about Ohio, because I haven't asked her about it. I haven't even mentioned Madison's suggestions. I barely mentioned having lunch with her.

I hear her shuffling in the background, putting down the Chinese food container and my binder. She scoots over to me, and puts one hand on my back, rubbing circles on it. The other she runs through my hair.

Safety.

"Spencer, I've seen you through two strings of finals and two strings of midterms," she whispers gently, but firmly. "You're never this stressed. There's something else, isn't there? You can tell me. You can always tell me."

And just like that, I can tell her. Ashley never asks me tough questions, because she can read me so well that she knows when I don't want to talk about something. But whenever she really needs to know what's wrong, she asks. And she knows I can't ever lie. "Ohio. I want to go back, but I don't know. I'm not sure." I sit up and lean into her for a comforting hug.

"I'll come with you, if you want," she tells me, idly playing with my hair. She knows this calms me down, and I'm obviously in need of calming down.

"I'm not sure if I even want to... go," I mutter lamely.

"My opinion is that you should," she explains. "I don't know what happened there, but it's clear it's hurting you. There's only one way to face your problems, and that's head on, preferably with a machine gun in hand."

I chuckle. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that now would be the perfect time to go. "I'll give it serious consideration, on one condition."

She looks at me curiously. "And what's that?"

"That you'll be my machine gun," I joke.

She laughs. "What else would I be?"


	4. Sketching and Snuggles

A/N: I hope I made up for the last chapter's shortness with this one. It's kinda long. I don't know if I can update as frequently, 'cause we had a long weekend this week (3 days, woohoo!) at school, and tomorrow's Monday, so with homework and stuff, I'll try to get something up by Wednesday.

It's the first week of June; our finals are over, school is out of session. We're sitting on Ashley's thinking beach, but we're sitting there together. It's a Friday, and we're getting ready for the summer, spending what could possibly be our last Friday night in LA until the next school year.

Ashley is busy sketching something while looking out at the beautiful sunset over the Pacific Ocean. Her thinking beach is far away from everything and everyone else, so it's fairly quiet over here, just the waves hitting the shore a bit away from us. I'm reading, or at least, trying to, but my mind is abuzz with memories of Ohio. I've given myself until today to make and a decision, and I'm still on the fence. There's a couple of memories that have been circulating through my head all week, all the time. I don't know which one I want to go with; they represent such different things, one of them telling me to go to Ohio, the other telling me to stay in LA.

_Luke, Elle, and I sat on the edge of the pier behind my house on a lazy August night, a couple of weeks before our junior year started. We laid stretched out, Luke on the left, Elle on the right, and me in the middle. We were looking at the stars, not really talking, lapsed into a comfortable silence. _

"_Have you guys ever wondered what you're going to do with yourselves after high school?" Elle asked._

_Luke and I looked at each other and shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it," I admitted._

"_It's a little scary," Elle muttered, and I reached out to take her hand for comfort. "I can't picture myself as anyone except for Elle the kid. I can't see Elle the adult."_

"_I'm sure Elle the adult will be a fine piece of meat," Luke joked. _

_Elle smiled at him and then said, "Thanks for the comfort Luke, but seriously. Not being here. Not being with you two."_

"_Hey, there's no way that'll happen," I immediately jumped in. "We're friends forever."_

"_BFFLs," Luke added, and then wrinkled his nose. "Wait, isn't that redundant?"_

"_Yeah, you nut," I teased playfully and swatted him. _

"_Seriously, though," Luke said. "We shouldn't worry about this. We'll always have our families who love us, and even if we crash and burn at college, we all have here to come back to. The lake behind Spencer's house is our safe place. Ohio is our safe place. If we hate college or just need to see each other again, we come back here. Deal?"_

"_Deal," Elle and I both agreed. _

"_Hey, guys," Luke began timidly after a moment of silence. "Do you think it's weird for a guy to like- like like- other guys or a girl to like like other girls?"_

_Elle shrugged. "Not really, I guess."_

_I thought about this for a moment, and despite everything my mom preached about the evils of that kind of thing, I didn't get the big deal. "I wouldn't mind," I told him._

"_Good," he said, letting out a sigh of relief. "'Cause I think I might."_

"_Might what?" Elle asked, sitting up._

"_Like like boys," he replied in a scared voice. "I think I'm gay."_

_Neither Elle nor I had anything to say. We looked at each other briefly, before tackling Luke._

"_That's okay," I muttered into him, muffled by his shoulder. "We love you anyway."_

"_And we think it's time for a little night swimming," Elle added._

"_We think what?" I asked, but then Elle had already grabbed both of our hands, pulled us up and jumped into the water. _

_Luke and I emerged, soaked and a little pissed. "You are SO gonna get it!"_

"Spencer, what do you think of this?" Ashley asks, jerking me out of my memories. She holds up a sketch. The picture shows the sunset, beautifully shaded in black and white, the waves of the ocean lapping lightly against the grainy white beach, and a girl in a black hoodie, huddled over a book, just so a profile of the face is visible. Me.

"It's real nice," I say, but it renders me almost speechless. Ash does landscapes, animals, buildings, fruit, and sometimes city scenes with nondescript people and faces, but never portraits. I know that me in that picture isn't really a portrait, but it's most detail she's ever done on a person.

"You like it?" she mutters, almost to herself. She stares at the sketch, then at me, and the back at the sketch. She wrinkles her nose. "I don't think I did your eyes right."

I move over closer to her, so our shoulders are almost touching. She gives me a look for one brief moment, and then it's over. I'm not exactly sure what I saw right there, but decide to ignore it and focus on the picture. "I think they look good."

"They aren't pretty enough," she mutters, and then shoves her nose right back into the pad. I blush and continue to read my book. I'm not really sure what's up with her tonight; she seems a bit friendlier than usual. Maybe she has a migraine, and took her medicine. Sometimes it makes her act weird.

Ashley's eraser and the crashing waves are the only things making noise at the moment, and I'm scared. Ohio never seemed so close as it did at this very moment. It reminds me of the windy days on the lake, when the water hit the pier, and nothing else made a sound. When I would sit out there, mostly by myself, but sometimes with Elle and/or Luke, and there would be no human noise. Like a vacuum.

We leave after about another half an hour. Ashley gets up, and I take that as a sign that it's time for dinner. Which is fine by me, considering my stomach is growling.

"Hey, Spencer?" She looks at me with expectant eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna race?" I raise my eyebrows, and before I can even give an answer, she yells, "Ready, set, go!" She takes off down the beach like a rocket, and I follow behind her, laughing. She trips in the sand and stumbles, allowing me to sprint past her and tag the car, effectively winning the race.

By the time she stumbles over, I'm doing a victory dance. I'm elated by this, but I can't figure out why. The little race has been like a pick-me-up from my Ohio-induced doldrums. "So do I get my prize now?"

She smirks mischievously. "Yep. Here is your bouquet of roses." She rolls her sketch into a cylinder and hands it to me. "And here is your victory kiss." She leans over and kisses my cheek softly, staying there for just a second longer than she should have. "Happy?"

I nod numbly as I get in the car and buckle my seatbelt, not sure what to make of this. We've always been close in the touching kind of way- we share a bed every Friday night, and she holds my hand a lot. But it's like she's crossed a line tonight, and I'm not exactly sure that it's a bad thing.

"Where do you wanna go?" Ashley, once again, pulls me out of my own personal thoughts.

"Wherever," I mutter, looking at my thumbs. Ashley opens her mouth to say something, but decides against it.

"What about Tomato Paste?" That's our favorite Italian place, because of its amazing pasta dishes. She knows that's like my comfort food, ever since I told her my dad used to make spaghetti, meatballs, and tomato sauce on cold, snowy winter days. Ashley always suggests it when she knows I'm having a kind of shitty day.

I nod a little bit, and she reaches out and squeezes my hand for a second before pulling it away and putting it back on the steering wheel. I'm still not sure about these signals she's sending me; they're weirdly ambiguous.

We drive the rest of the way in silence. We're seated in silence. We look over our menus in silence. We order, and then Ashley breaks the silence.

"So, summer's coming up soon," she says nonchalantly, picking up one of the free bread rolls they gave us.

"Yeah, I guess it is," I mumble as I stare at my plate.

"Dammit, Spence." She's angry now, I can tell. "You know what I mean. What the hell is in Ohio that you can't talk about?"

I shake my head. "You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do," she sighs, and then shifts her tone slightly so that she sounds more comforting. "I want you to feel like you can tell me everything. God knows I've told _you_ everything."

That hurt, and I think she meant it to. I think I needed it to. What really was the mind block that I had against it? Sure, for the past couple years I had no one, other than Luke, who I could really tell, who really would understand, who I really felt close enough to. But here was Ashley, who I felt closer to than anyone. And I just couldn't give that part of me up to her. Not yet, I realized. Not until she could see that part for herself. Not until she could see Ohio.

"I need to go there," I say, pretty much out of the blue. But by the cute smile on her face, she gets it. I can tell she gets it. "And I want you there to."

"Can you tell me something, anything?" she asks, almost pleading. "Don't want your machine gun to go in without any ammo."

I chuckle at this and then start chewing my lip. I'm not sure exactly what to put out on the table. "There's some bad blood between me and my family."

"Really? Then where are we staying?"

"My one brother, Clay, is offering up his place," I explains.

She looks at me, and I'm a bit uncomfortable. "That's all?"

I figure that playing dumb would be the best option. "All about what?"

She gives me an annoyed glance, the one that people always do when they tilt their heads. "You know."

I sigh. "I haven't talked to anyone, except for Clay, since I left three years ago. And..." I hesitate, once again, wondering if I should tell her I'm gay.

Ashley observes me with suspense. She's waiting for me to finish my thought, but I don't what to say. I don't know why I can't tell her, but I can't. So I just let myself trail off, sitting there in silence.

She sighs and leans back in her chair. "Look, I've been extra nice to you tonight, with all the extra comforting and stuff, but you're still not giving me anything."

I put my head down, ashamed. "Sorry."

"Sorry? I've tried to be supportive of you, and not ask too many questions, but you're not giving me anything to go on." She puts her head in her hands. "How am I supposed to help you if I don't even know the problem?"

I open my mouth stupidly a couple of times before blurting out, "I'm gay, okay!" It causes a couple of heads to turn our way. Ashley doesn't say anything at all; her only reaction is a slight nod.

"Check." She calls out to the waiter. He brings it over quickly, and Ashley hands him a twenty and a ten, and says, "Keep the change." Ashley has a lot of money, from her father, who was a wealthy stock broker. He left his wife and Ashley for a young blondie, and Ashley has never forgiven him, despite all the money he sends her.

Once we're out on the streets, Ashley gives me a big bear hug, and I let myself enjoy it, if only for a second, even though the hug easily lasts sixty.

"I can't believe you're gay!" she exclaims happily, but then her face is shrouded in confusion. "Wait, then why did you date all those guys?"

"Because, 'cause..." I sigh. "Can't that be enough for tonight? I've been denying that for five years, that's why I've been dating all the guys. I don't want it. I don't want to be gay." And then I'm crying, crying all over myself, and all over Ashley, too, once she wraps her arms around my shoulders.

"D'you just wanna skip the movies and head home?" she asks gently.

I shake my head and wipe away some tears. "I think I'm in the mood for cheesiness tonight."

She led me into the store. "Hey, A-"

But Aiden isn't there. It's just some lame guy with a pimply face, glasses, and mousy brown hair. I feel like the entire universe has been disrupted because Aiden's not here to hand us some stupid movies and make stupid conversation with us.

"Oh, hey," the mousy haired check-out guy says, his voice nasally. "Are you two, um, Ashley and Spencer?"

Ashley took an attitude with the guy. "Who's asking?"

"The guy who works here usually," check-out boy explains. "Aiden, or something? He's out sick, but he left these for you." The boy reaches under the counter and pulls out two DVDs: "Casablanca" and "Friday the 13th." There's a note on them.

**Ashley and Spencer-**

**I'm out sick with some sort of nasty flue thing, but I left you these. "Casablanca" for Spencer, 'cause she's into that sappy romance stuff. And then "Friday the 13th" for Ashley, since she loves horror movies. Plus it'll give you two little lovebirds a chance to cuddle :) Anyway, see you next Friday. Don't miss me too much!**

**-Aiden**

"That's sweet of him," I say, "but I'm in a 'Mean Girls' mood today."

"Whatever you want," Ashley agrees. She quickly walks off to the "M" section, leaving me with the creepy kid behind the counter.

"So," he says, absentmindedly playing around with a Rubik's Cube. "You Ashley or Spencer?"

"Guess," I mutter, my head in Ohio.

"I'd guess Spencer," he says.

"Good job," I mumble, bored with him.

"Thought so," he laments. "It's a sexy name."

I'm pissed off right now. "I'm gay."

Mousy haired kid, instead of looking disappointed, asks, "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Yes I am," Ashley states proudly upon returning. Mousy haired kid looks like Christmas as come early, until Ashley tells him, "No, you can't watch. Just ring this up and move your eyes up a little, okey-dokey?"

"Yes, ma'am." Ashley and I share a smile as he hands us the DVD- in a bag.

We don't talk about this exchange on the way home, but when we get in bed, we sit a little closer than usual. She puts her arm around me, and I actually stay awake for the entire movie.

"So, Spencer," she says as she turns off the DVD player. "When do we leave? For Ohio?"

"Whenever," I mutter tiredly. She gets back into bed and in my almost drunken state, I snuggle up to her, my head on her chest, arm draped over her stomach, and both her arms encircling me, like a security blanket. And as I go to sleep, I dream of Ohio.

_Two years ago, my cell phone rang. "Hello?" I'd expected it to be Ashley; she'd been away all day at her thinking spot, and hadn't called once._

"_Guess who?"_

_I laughed into the phone. "Luke? No way. I haven't talked to you in forever! How's things?"_

"_I'm not here to talk about me," he said, a little worried._

"_Luke, what's wrong?"_

"_It's just... God, you don't know?" He sounded incredulous._

"_Um, no, I haven't really talked to anyone in Ohio, since, well, you know, so if it has anything to do with anything back there, then it's safe to say I'm out of the loop."_

"_Yeah, I get that, it's just... Wow, your own brother, and you don't know?"  
_

_I instantly went into panic mode. "What happened to Clay? Is he hurt? Oh my God, it's not Chelsea? Or Chris, is it?"_

_Luke chuckled weakly. "Not that brother. Your other brother."_

"_Glen? He hates me."_

"_But still, he's your brother."_

"_What exactly happened to my brother?"_

"_He's getting married, Spencer." Luke's voice was dry and emotionless._

"_Oh." I didn't feel any reaction to this news. "That's... that's good for him."_

"_You don't get it."_

_I chuckled. "No, I obviously don't."_

"_He's getting married... to Elle."_

_I felt like I'd just taken a bullet to the heart._


	5. Road Trips and Detours

A/N: I know this is a short chapter, but it's a promise the next one will be really long. Which means it probably won't be out until the end of the week. Also, I felt like I needed to thank you all for reviewing and address a few reviews.

cyberauthor and arh1986: thanks for be the first reviewers and staying with the story

Halfreck3929: I'm a Buffy addict too; that's why I stuck that in there! Love the pen name, by the way.

pinkwolves: Thanks for calling me a genius, but I don't want to get up your hopes with false expectations, because that's not what happens. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn't be expecting that and then getting something different.

And now to the story (you guys all know I don't own it, right?)...

"Hello?" Clay's voice sounds on the other end of the phone. Judging by the noises in the background, he's cooking something and Chris is watching.

"Hi, um, this is Ashley," she says into the phone. We're packing for Ohio, and since Ashley hates packing so much, I told her I would pack some of her stuff if she called Clay for me. "Look, you probably don't know-"

"Wait, are you _the_ Ashley?" I hear Clay practically shout through the other line. "The one Spencer keeps talking about?"

"I guess," she mutters and then shoots me a glance. I nod. "Yeah, I am. Me and Spencer-"

"Spencer and I." As an English major, I have a tendency to correct people as a reflex.

"Sorry," Ashley says jokingly with a roll of her eyes. "Your darling little sister has a grammar fetish."

I decided to ignore that statement for fear of the two of them never getting through their conversation.

"So, we're coming to Ohio. Me and Spence." Her statement is followed by a moment of silence.

"Who are you and when can I worship at your feet?" Clay's sarcasm greatly amuses Ashley, but not me. I almost resent that little jibe he took at me.

"What do you mean?"

"We've- we being me and my wife Chelsea and her friend Luke- been trying to get Spencer to come back here for five years, and you finally did it," he exclaims in a nearly exasperated manner. "When are you coming?"

"When are able to have us?" Ashley shoots right back.

"Anytime," he answers. "We don't have any relatives coming over this summer, so our guest room is free. We do, though, only have one bed, so..."

"That's cool," Ashley says. "We sleep together every Friday night, so-"

"You do WHAT!" Clay shouts. I'm laughing and Ashley's confused. Then it dawns on her.

"Not that kind of sleeping together," she mutters, clearly embarrassed. I smile at this, since she's never embarrassed. "The kind where you share the same bed. And keep all your clothes on."

"That's okay then." I can hear Clay laughing on the other line now that he's found out that I'm not sleeping with Ashley. "But, I gotta know, how much has she told you?"

"That everyone but you hates her and she's gay," Ashley whispers like I shouldn't be listening in. Like I'm eavesdropping.

"You don't know the half of it," Clay says back, also in a low voice. But Ashley, smart as she is, forgot to turn the speaker phone off, so I can still hear him. He coughs to stifle an awkward silence and asks her, in his normal voice, "When will you be coming?"

Ashley frowns. "I dunno. We're leaving today. LA to Ohio? What is that, like two days or something? I guess Monday. Well, Monday at the earliest."

"Cool. See you then." Clay hangs up and Ashley flips her phone shut. She looks at me expectantly.

"What?" I wonder, picking up some of her favorite clothes and stuffing them into her suitcase. I hope that this extra generosity with gain me brownie points, but it doesn't stop the Ashley inquisition.

"'You don't know the half of it?'" She frowns sternly at me, and I'm like a two-year-old who's been caught with her fingers in the cookie jar. "What does that mean?"

"It means a lot," I tell her, scared of saying anymore. "The whole point of going is so I can, I don't know, relive it."

"Relive hell?" Ashley says with a sarcastic chuckle. "Yeah, that's the smart way to deal with a problem."

"Sometimes it's the only way." I leave it at that, and we finish the packing with a heavy silence hanging over us.

"Let's get going!" she shouts, exceedingly excited for this little road trip. "Don't wanna be late for your brother."

"Knowing Clay, he's probably pulled out all the stops and made this gourmet dinner for us," I joke. "He's been really missing me for the past five years."

"Sounds like someone's a bit egotistical."

"That would be you." I jump in the passenger seat; Ashley's energy seems to be contagious. Maybe that's the whole point, because I doubt she's excited to uncover my painful past. Curious, sure, but excitement is not something I would associate with what she's about to learn. Because I know. And I still find it hard to let others know. To let her know.

"So, how far you wanna go today?" Ashley asks. She must be able to read my mood; she always jerks me out of these little depressing trips down memory lane.

"Until you're tired, I guess," I reply, with a shrug of my shoulders. "I've always loved long car rides with the music up loud." I look at her accusingly, because she has no music playing.

"Of course there's music," she laughs. "Who do you think you're driving with?" Ashley practically breathes music, through playing it, singing it, and listening to it. "My iPod's in my purse. Plug it in."

I'm constantly amazed by the technology that Ashley has, and this is no exception. I know that people hooking up iPods to car radios is becoming fairly common, but I've never actually done it before. For me, most things hold no value for me unless I experience them myself.

We drive along the highway, shouting badly off-key renditions of Ashley's favorite bands. She sings poorly on purpose, mostly to make me feel better, I think. Or it's just fun.

"Hey, you wanna stop somewhere?" Ashley wonders unexpectedly in the middle of the afternoon. I'm confused because we filled up and went to the bathroom about an hour ago.

"We just did."

"I know," she says simply. "I meant like a stupid tourist attraction or something." She says it in an almost pleading voice, a small voice. I realize this is because she probably never took a real road trip; all the trips she took as a kid were business trips on airplanes where all that happened was she got neglected even more. I remember my family road trips as a kid, and can't think of a more fun time in my childhood, other than the sunny summer days in Ohio.

"I can't think of a better way to spend my road trip," I answer.

"Great." Ashley smiles more widely than I've ever seen her smile, and it brings me a certain joy to know that I was- in part- responsible for that smile. "We can find a Starbucks and get online there."

In about an hour, we drive up to a Starbucks on the border between California and Nevada. We've been driving for three hours, about, and both of us are a little more tired than we thought we'd be.

Ashley logs on to wireless Internet from her cell phone. The start page hasn't even popped up when she gets an amazingly brilliant, yet devious, smirk on her face. She flips the phone shut and grabs me by the hand, pulling me back out to the car.

"What are you doing? I thought we were stopping somewhere?" I ask, confused. She opens the passenger door and all but shoves me into the car.

"We are." She puts that same smirk back on. "Spencer Carlin, how would like to go to Vegas?"


	6. Fun and Forgetting

A/N: I know, I know it's late and I apologize for the delay. Homework and projects,plus reading this terrible book for English. I hope that it was worth the wait. And also, I don't know if I got every detail of Vegas right. I've only been once and I wasn't old enough to do anything there- I'm still not old enough to do anything. So I used my imagination. And what I learned from the "Atlantic City" episode of How I Met Your Mother. And I promise they'll get to Ohio by the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I asked Santa for the rights for Christmas. I'll let you know if I got them. But for now, it's not mine.

"You want me to go _where_?"

Ashley laughs and grabs my hands, spinning me around. "C'mon, Spence! One last big blow-out of partying before we head off to small town Ohio? Please?" She looks at me with puppy dog eyes and I can't resist. She knows I can't, so it's always her secret weapon whenever she needs me to do something for her. But she doesn't even have to do that. She can just look at me, and I'll do anything.

"Fine," I grumble. "But only because you asked so nicely."

Ashley scoffs at this. "Yeah, right. It's because you _love_ me SO much."

"Keep dreaming, Davies," I joke as I climb back into the car. Vegas, here we come.

We arrive in Vegas around seven at night, and the first thing Ashley wants to do is hit the bars. Thankfully, we're both 21, so I don't have to pull her away from illegal activities.

"We need to get a hotel room first," I insist. "If you end up getting wildly drunk-"

"-which is a very likely situation," she laughs.

"Right," I agree. "And considering that, I don't wanna have to drive you around with you telling me how amazingly exhilarating the ride is before throwing up all over the seats while I look for a hotel, most of which probably would have no vacancy."

She sighs in this happy kind of way. "Where would I be without you?"

"Probably dead in some alley in downtown LA." She laughs, and we speed off as the light changes.

The receptionist looks at us when we tell her we want to share a room. She probably thinks that we're together; the way she looks at us just says that. This is why I stay hidden, in the closet. Complete strangers giving me funny looks- and Ashley isn't even my girlfriend- because of who I love. Granted, I haven't loved a girl in five years, not since... Ohio. But I remember the prejudice. I remember the hate. I remember, but I want to forget.

We unlock the door to our room and dump all our stuff in it, looking at its coziness.

"I wish we'd looked at a room before we got it," I say. "This place is miniature."

"Hey, this is your vacation," Ashley reminds me with a smirk.

"I didn't want to come here."

She smiles genuinely and puts her hand on my arm. "But you're here. And I am officially going to make sure you have some fun!" She drags me out the door, laughing, to the streets.

We are walking down the Vegas streets. She's smiling brightly and pointing out the eccentric people going down the road, too. I'm surprisingly not dreading this night as much as I thought I would. Maybe it's because of all the energy around us.

Maybe it's because she's holding my hand.

Ashley leads me into the Luxor- it's the big black pyramid.

"Hey, Spencer, you any good at cards?" she wonders.

"Actually, I'm decent at blackjack." She raises her eyebrows. She didn't think little innocent me would even touch anything related to gambling. "My dad taught me. A long time ago." She gives me a sad, understanding smile and squeezes my hand. And then she pulls her big smile again as she runs for the black jack table.

And suddenly I realize what this trip to Vegas is about. It's about forgetting. Because for the past five years, I haven't been able to go an hour without Ohio crossing my mind in some form or another, whether it's Luke or Elle or my family or just memories. Tonight is the first step in the road to recovery: I have to learn to forget it, learn to ignore it, learn to live with it without it eating up my insides and sending me into a state of depression. But that will come later. Tonight is for forgetting.

I sit down at the blackjack table. There's three others there- all guys- plus the dealer. One of them is dressed in a suit and looks a little too clean cut to be hanging out in a Vegas gambling place. The second has on a Red Sox cap and reminds me a little of Rob of "Amazing Race" and "Survivor" fame, and the last guy is obviously a tourist, with his Hawaiian shirt and khakis.

"You want in?" the dealer asks.

"Yeah," I say numbly, not even sure why I'm doing this. That's right: I'm doing this to forget. "Hit me."

Ashley gives him some money and smiles at me. He hands me my chips, and we all place a couple in the center. The dealer throws out the cards and flips his one card over. Seven.

I look at my two cards. Ashley's hands are on my shoulders, making it a little hard for me to concentrate. Her nose is scrunched up in an adorable way as she tries to figure out what I should do. It's a tough decision. I have a seven and an eight. Fifteen.

We all go around and get hit or stand. I get another card. Four. Fifteen and four. Nineteen. My first hand is looking good.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," Ashley whispers into my ear. I try to ignore the shivers up and down my spine as she says that. Tonight is for forgetting. "What anything?"

"Surprise me," I mutter, absorbed in the game. Blackjack has always had a calming effect on me. It's the only card game I ever really liked. Probably because it's the one my dad spent the most time teaching me, on warm spring nights out on the grass-

Forget. Don't think about it.

Two hours and two drinks later, I've earned about fifty dollars and decide to call it quits. I haven't seen Ashley for about an hour. Last I checked, she went to do some shots in a drinking competition.

I leave the table Red Sox Hat shoots me an angry look. I think he's mad that a girl beat him. I'm heading over to the bar, where I believe Ashley is. I scan the length of it, seeing lots of empty glasses and hearty faces, but none of them belonging to Ashley.

"SPENCEY!" I whip around to see a very drunk Ashley wielding a bottle of beer and wearing a goofy smile. "I've got a surprise for you!" She pulls me along, weaving crazily through the tables and slot machines, giggling the entire time.

I'm a little buzzed, so I don't care as much where she's leading me. But I still wanna know. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise!" she repeats, with more giggling. "Close your eyes and let me lead you there!" And like the buzzed idiot I am, I trust her. I close my eyes as she leads me- she's wobbly on her feet, but she's going very slowly, like she knows that if she goes any faster she risks hurting me.

Vegas is an interesting place, but it's even more interesting when you can't see anything. The smells become ten times more pungent and the sounds are amplified in your ears. I can make out all the conversations around me as we whizzed past the people; I can smell their fried food and hot dogs, and I know when we pass the M 'n' M's building because I can smell the chocolate. I enjoyed it, running around with my eyes closed, feeling the world through a different point of view. Through my feet on the ground, through my ears, through my nose, through Ashley's hand.

"Spencer! We're here!" Ashley says as we tumble through a door. I try to open my eyes, but she pushes her hand in front of them. "You gotta guess! Where do you think we're at!"

I have no idea, but judging by the softness under my feet, I think we're on another casino's gambling floor. "Some casino?"

"No silly." She giggles again. "Another guess!"

"Ashley," I whine. I've never liked guessing games. "Just tell me."

"Fine," she huffs, but it's clear she isn't mad. She takes her hand away from my eyes and my jaw drops.

"Ashley!" I'm too in shock to do anything.

"Say yes, please!" she begs.

And since you're probably wondering what that means, it will all become clear when I tell you where we are: the Little Wedding Chapel.

Thankfully, I'm sober enough to realize that marrying Ashley is not a good idea at the moment, and probably not even allowed in the state of Nevada. "Ashley, I don't think this is such a good idea-"

"Don't you love me?" Her face is heartbroken and it's almost adorable enough for me to tell her that I will marry her. Almost.

I am suddenly aware of a pounding headache as she latches onto my arm. "Of course I love you. But not like that." I wrestle out of her grip and head outside. She follows me like an overly loyal dog.

"Spencer, I love you! I love you! I love you!" she sings. I grab her by the arm and tell her that we are going back to the hotel because she's too drunk to think coherently anymore. She laughs and agrees to go if she can hold my hand. Reluctantly, I give it to her. She skips back, dragging me along, half-running, half-skipping, completely laughing at her stupidity.

We get into the hotel, and she peels away from my hand, getting lost in the crowd. I moan, not really looking to find her. I keep her in my sight for a couple of seconds before a slightly tipsy guy stands in front of me.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I mutter distractedly. I'm trying to get around him to find Ashley.

"What's up?"

I shoot him a look. "I'm looking for my friend and you're in the way." I try to duck past him, but he gets in my way again.

"This friend of yours? He can wait." The guy winks at me and I'm disgusted.

"My friend is a girl," I tell him, trying to get around him. But he's always a step ahead of me.

"Then ditch her and let me show you what a man can do," he says.

I'm about to make an angry retort, when I hear loud catcalls coming from the bar. The guy and I both turn around to see Ashley dancing on top the bar about to take her shirt off.

"Oh shit."

"Damn! Is that your friend?" the guy laughs. I get over there and grab the bottom of Ashley's shirt before she has the chance to lift it off.

"Ashley!" I yell. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Having some fun!" All the guys at the bar cheer and whoop. "C'mon, let's give 'em a show!" She tries to pull me on the bar with her, but I resist.

"Ashley! We are not giving them a show. That's what strippers are for. You are not a stripper," I tell her forcefully.

"I could be," she shoots back, and I don't deny it. Because it's definitely true.

"Yes, well, let's go," I say. "We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow." I realize I'm probably going to have to drive, and this makes me even angrier for agreeing to go on this little detour. However, it does postpone my arrival time in Ohio. But I'm not supposed to be thinking about Ohio. Forget.

I lead her into the elevator and she leans against the wall, laughing. "Spence, that was so fun!" She laughs some more. Then she starts to pull her shirt up again.

"Ashley!" I pull it back down, no matter how much brain is telling me to let her take it off. Now is not the time. Because the shirt coming off is making me remember. I need to forget.

"I'm gonna be your stripper tonight!" Somewhere, my brain registers that she just said that, but I can't really process it at all.

"No stripping!" I say fiercely. "We are going back to the hotel room and we are going to bed."

"Together?" She giggles.

"No."

But when we get back to the hotel room, she plops on down her bed, quickly taking off her shoes, roping me in with her. She wraps both her arms around me and cuddles as close as we can.

"Mhmm," she sighs into me. "Yummy."

I chuckle, and can't get up. I kick my shoes off and settle in.

She scoots a little closer. I put my hand on her back.

And I forget.


	7. Hangovers and Memories

**A/N:** I know I'm an awful person. I didn't update at all this week, and I really have no excuse, other than I ran out of ideas momentarily. 'Cause I know where this is going; I just don't know how it's gonna get there. Um, yeah. This is a long update- longest yet. I hope to get another chapter up tonight or tomorrow.

**Disclaimer:** Why on earth would I be writing an AU fanfiction if I owned these characters?

I wake up the next morning to Ashley's groaning over her massive headache. She's already out of bed and in the bathroom, bent over the toilet. "Spencer," she moans. "What did I do last night?"

I chuckle as I get her migraine medicine out of her bag and fill the cup up in the sink outside of the bathroom. She looks at me, and she's totally feeling disgusting, I can tell. Her hair is a mess, and it's a lucky thing that she didn't think to put on any make-up last night, because it would be smeared everywhere. Ashley has a policy about wearing make-up to bars: don't, because by the time you hook up with someone, you're both too drunk to care whose dolled up and whose not.

Another good thing about Ashley's hangovers is that they usually don't involve much puking. She probably did most of in the middle of the night, which is what generally happens. She'll just have a massive migraine for the rest of the day. That I can deal with as long as the medicine doesn't make her act up too much.

"You feeling okay?" I ask gently. "Throw up a lot?"

She groans. "First, I sat over the toilet for an hour last night, but only puked twice. Second, you avoided my other question."

"Sure you want to know?"

Her face is pained and freaked. "Oh, God. What did I do?"

"Nothing you won't totally laugh off," I assured her. "Let's see... you practically blindfolded me and took me to the Little Wedding Chapel, where you asked me to marry you."

"Is that even legal?" she asks, thankfully not brooding on it.

"Probably not," I say and then continue with a devilish grin. "Then, you jumped up on the bar and tried to give a strip show to the guys there-"

"How much clothing did I lose?"

"None." I smiled at her breath of relief. "I stopped you from taking your shirt off and becoming a stripper in a crowded bar, but that didn't stop you from attempting to take it off in an elevator and be _my_ stripper."

Ashley looks horrified. "I didn't do anything, did I? I try to like make-out with you or anything? All clothing still firmly on my body?"

I laugh. "Yes, you stayed clothed. But, actually, you might not have the whole night. Who knows what you were doing while I was playing blackjack?"

She groans. "I don't wanna think about it. And Spencer? You're driving."

"I know." And we set out.

We're both exhausted, so not much talking goes on. We reach Wichita, Kansas, late that night and both of us just want to go to bed. We get a two bed room, but we end up sharing a bed again, Ashley's arm wrapped firmly around my waist as I snuggle into her.

We wake up that morning at seven. We want to get to Ohio before nine at night, so we need to leave now. Ashley is driving again, but we both are silent. The songs play in the CD player, but neither of us sing. She finally gives up and puts the third Harry Potter book-on-CD in. We listen to the man read about Harry's adventures in silence.

It's not until we reach the Ohio border that we have a conversation worth mentioning. It's seven at night; we've been driving for twelve hours and we're sick of it. There's only two more hours to go, and I realize it's stupid of me to think that I'll get through the entire trip without one question from Ashley.

"Anything you want to tell me?" she asks tentatively. "You know, even about your family?"

I sigh, but answer her with a shaky voice. "My family is me, Glen, Clay, Mom, and Dad. Clay is adopted. He married a woman named Chelsea, who I think might love me the most in the family after Clay. They have one son, Chris- he's three. Glen's married too; this girl I used to be friends with. They don't have any kids. Everyone still lives in Harbor Hills. Mom and Dad haven't moved. It's still the same house."

"Why do they hate you?"

I look at her strangely. "You know exactly why."

"But you need to say it." Once again, Ashley is right. I hadn't known she could be this deep and insightful before the trip.

I take a deep breath. "They hate me... they hate me... they hate me because... because I'm gay." I look at her, tears in my eyes. "God, Ash, I'm not ready for this. Take me back. Take me home."

"I am," she says simply. And she doesn't say any more.

We see the sign that says we're half an hour from Harbor Hills. We've really picked up our speed (I think Ashley might've been going a little over the limit). She keeps throwing me expectant glances, like she wants me to say something.

"I need to know more," she says. Her tone isn't the soft, caring tone it's been the entire trip; it's colder, firmer, something that makes me feel all guilty inside. I think that's her intent.

"I don't know what more I can tell you," I mutter. "I'm not ready to say anything."

"Well, you need to," Ashley snaps. She's getting angry with me now, and I can't blame her. I'm getting angry with me. "Just something, anything. A little bit."

I stay silent. She sighs. "What was her name?"

I'm puzzled. "Who?"

"The girl."

"What girl?"

She looks at me now, like she's getting annoyed with my stupidity. "The girl who made realize you were gay."

"Oh, I..." I don't know what to say. In fact, there's a very simple, clear cut answer to that question, but I don't know if I'm ready to say it aloud, even if to her, it will just be a name.

"Mine was Jen," she states bluntly.

"Jen?" I'm not sure if Jen is a character or a real person.

"Jen from _Dawson's Creek_," she explains. "I used to watch that show because it reminded me that other kids were going through stuff, and it wasn't just me. And then I started noticing Jen and her hotness. I kinda knew ever since." I am still silent. "I can tell by the way you're acting that your girl was real; not someone from TV."

"She was real," I answer quietly, surprising even myself. "She was gorgeous and fun and smart, and I was totally in love with her. Her name was Elle."

Ashley nods, and tries to hide it, but I can tell she's intrigued. "Did she return them? Your feelings, I mean?"

I hesitate before saying it. "Yes." Ashley can sense that it's a momentous thing for me to even bring up Elle, and I'm grateful that she lapses into silence. I haven't mentioned Elle to anyone in five years. I haven't said her name. Not even when Luke called to tell me they got married. Her and Glen.

"I loved her, you know," I blurt out randomly. It's like once I've said her name, I can talk about her. She's no longer a distant blur in the back of my mind. She's real again.

Ashley smiles sadly at me; she knows there's more to the story, but doesn't press.

"I miss her," I state solemnly. "Every day, I miss what we had."

A lightbulb goes off in Ashley's head, judging by her facial expression. "Spencer, this Elle, she's not the one Glen married, is she?" She asks as gently as possible, but it would be impossible not to hurt me with that question. It's like getting into cold water: no matter how slowly you easy in, it's still going to be cold.

"Yes." I nod my head, and then I start to cry. I cry like I haven't cried in five years. I cry because I'm remembering everything all at once. The innocence captured in Ohio at the beginning; the day the innocence was lost. Because Ohio isn't innocent; not anymore. It left with Elle.

Ashley pulls over to the shoulder of the highway and unbuckles her seatbelt she climbs over the center console so we're both in my seat. She maneuvers me onto her lap and wraps me tightly in a hug. One hand rests firmly behind my head, her fingers weaving through my hair. The other one is around my waist, encircling me like a warm blanket. She's whispering things to me, little reassurances that it will be okay. I sniffle and sob, but get better with each passing second. There's something about her arms around me that makes the pain hurt a less; that makes me feel loved and special and safe all at once. It's something I haven't felt in a long time, and I've certainly never felt it to this degree.

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few more moments before she whispers, "Better?"

I nod like a small, frightened child still clinging onto her. "Enough."

"That's all I was hoping for," she chuckles, giving me a kiss on the top of the head, sending tingles all over my body. She wiggles out from under me and goes back over to her seat, leaving me feeling cold and lonely, even though, she's right there.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," I tell her. And for the first time, I really think it's a possibility. I really think I can get over it. Get over them. Get over her.

_It was the middle of our junior year on a Friday night. Luke and his boyfriend James were out on a date, so it was just me and Elle. We decided to have a sleepover. Neither of us had a boyfriend; it wasn't like we hadn't had any offers. Both of us had been asked out at least twice, but we couldn't find any boys we were even remotely attracted to._

_About a month earlier, I had started to wonder if I could be gay. I found myself looking at the female leads in the movies instead of males. I didn't have a crush on Carl Bartney, the baseball captain at Harbor Hills who every girl swooned over. Someone told me that any girl that didn't get turned on by Carl Bartney was gay. And I was starting to believe that person._

_Especially when it came to Elle._

_When Luke got a boyfriend, Elle and I spent more time together without him. I was always there to listen to her stories about the latest guy to ask her out and all the reasons she turned him down, and I would be jealous at first and then relieved that she didn't accept his offer. That made me wonder, too, But I didn't want to be gay. My mom spent most of her time preaching to me about how evil gay people were, and rarely even spoke to Luke or let him in the house. Usually she would kick him out, and he and James were definitely NOT allowed to be in here together._

_But I couldn't help myself. It took a month, but I finally admitted to myself that I liked Elle in that way. In my scared mind, that didn't make me gay, though. I just romantically liked my female best friend. _

_It was that sleepover in the middle of junior year, that it all changed. Elle and I were in my room watching _Titanic_. It was one of our favorites; we had a rule that we would watch it once during every sleepover. We were both on my bed; lying at the edge of it with our heads on our pillows._

Titanic_ was the third movie we'd watched that night. The other two had been _Gone With the Wind _and_ Legally Blonde_. We were in a romantic mood that night; we generally were, since neither of us had any real romance._

"_Hey, Elle?"_

_She pulled her head off the pillow and looked at me sleepily. "Hmm?"_

"_Have you ever wondered how Luke must've felt?" I asked._

_She wrinkled her nose. Ever since Luke came out and got a boyfriend, Elle had been acting a bit weird towards him despite her initial reaction that she didn't care if he was gay. Both me and Luke sensed the growing divide between the two of them, no doubt induced by her mother's craziness. "What do you mean?"_

"_Well, there are all these movies about guys and girls falling in love, but how many realistically portrayed gay characters are there out there?" I continued. "It must be had, I mean. To see all these straight people in relationships, and no one like you. I bet it could make you feel pretty lonely."_

_Elle looked contemplative for a moment. "I guess. But I don't even think that Luke's really into that stuff."_

"_What stuff?" I snort. "Gay characters? He is gay, after all."_

"_I don't know... I mean, James doesn't seem like a good guy..." She trailed off and I gave her a strange glance._

"_What's been up with you and Luke lately?" I asked. "Ever since he came out, things have been weird."_

"_I just don't know if he should be going out with James," she mumbled. _

"_Why?"_

"_I don't like him." I raised my eyebrows at her and shot my best piercing stare. "He's just... Luke shouldn't be gay."_

_I sat shocked for a moment before I could find it in me to respond. "Why the hell not? It's not like he can pick and choose. It's just the way he is."_

"_He shouldn't act on it."_

"_What's up with you?" I was disappointed and disgusted with her behavior. "You've been listening to your mom too much. There's nothing wrong with Luke. He's found someone he likes a lot, so I say more power to him. So what if it's another guy?"_

"_Because it makes it real." I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes as she slumped her head back onto the pillow. "If he's gay, it becomes real. It's okay."_

"_And what's wrong with that?" I was thoroughly confused by that point and wondered what Elle was thinking._

"_Because then it's real. It's something that can happen to anyone. Even... me."_

_Comprehension dawns on me. "But it can't be real for me, it just can't." She was talking about her mom; her evil, bigoted mom, who probably kick Elle out of the house if she was gay. And by the way she was talking, she was gay. _

_I was trying not to do a happy dance inside; maybe we could be together. Maybe my unrequited love just became mutual. Maybe. "Look, Elle, love is real. Boy or girl, straight or gay. It's real for whoever feels it. And honestly, I've been having similar thoughts lately."_

_She lifts her head up and looks directly into my eyes. No words were needed as I moved closer to her, my body acting on something my brain didn't authorize. I reached to tentatively touch her hair and move it to the side so I could see her entire face. In that moment, it felt like I was really seeing her- seeing her beauty- for the first time. _

_When she didn't flinch or pull away, I took that as a cue to keep going. I leaned forward, getting slower the closer I got. Our faces were barely an inch away from each other when she closed the distance, meeting my lips._

_Speechless._

_Beautiful._

_Powerful._

_Innocent._

_The words I would use to describe that kiss. The kiss that literally took my breath away. She lightly put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me towards her. We kept kissing like that, in the sweetest way possible, for as long as we had air. I couldn't tell you now how long it was. But however long it was, it felt so amazingly long like eternity, but when we stopped, it didn't feel like it had gone on long enough._

_We just looked at each other for a while after that in silence. _Titanic_ played on in the background, but neither of us listened. Neither of us paid attention. We were too focused on each other; on the moment, the passion, the innocence. _

"_Wow," she chuckled nervously, but in a good way. "That was... that was... it... I can hardly process... can we just do it again?"_

_I smiled and leaned over, recapturing her lips. And after about twenty more minutes of soft, sweet, exploratory kisses, we fell asleep, snuggled together, the final scenes of _Titanic_ playing like white noise._


	8. Home and Fear

**A/N:** Yes, it's late, I know. There's a 90 chance there won't be a new one before Thanksgiving. This weekend at the earliest. I'm gonna be in NYC, so no writing for me. Um... next chapter will have more flashbacks about Elle/Spencer as well as a meeting with Luke and a talk with Clay.

**Continuity Error:** I noticed that I said Elle and Glen got married 2 years ago, which would make them 19 and 20. I thought that was a little young, so we're changing that to 2 months ago, okay? Okay.

Ashley and I pull into Clay and Chelsea's driveway around nine that night. We hope that they're expecting us this late night, because with all of the drama, I didn't think to call. I'd been caught up in my memories since Ashley and I had our talk.

"Is this it?" she asks me energetically. We stopped a little after I told her about Elle, and she loaded up on coffee to keep her awake for the last thirty minutes. Unfortunately, she had a little too much and probably wouldn't end up sleeping more than a few hours that night.

I squint at the address I'd written down a couple of days earlier in the dim light of the street lamps, barely flickering. "Yeah. It's this one."

"Thank god!" Ashley screams really loudly and then starts laughing like a maniac. I stare at her, but don't brood on it. She gets this way when she has too much coffee.

I reach over and kill the engine. She gives me a funny glare before unbuckling herself and hopping out of the car.

The door swings open and Chelsea's standing there, acting very confused. She spots us and laughs. "I thought I heard some screaming out here."

I run over to her and give her a hug. And then immediately start to cry. I can be such a wuss sometimes. But not this time, because Chelsea's crying too.

I hear two slams of car doors followed by footsteps on the gravel, signaling that Ashley is coming over, probably with our stuff. I step away from Chelsea.

"Chelsea, this is my best friend, Ashley. Ashley, this is Chelsea," I introduce. They shake hands politely and Chelsea gives a me a look. I just roll my eyes. I know she thinks that Ashley is my girlfriend. Which she isn't.

Ashley looks at us for a moment. "Um, Chelsea, what should I do with these suitcases?" She's obviously getting a little uncomfortable with Chelsea and my looks, and she's absolutely adorable. But she's not my girlfriend.

"My darling husband will come take them," she shouts jokingly into the house. Clay runs out in his signature baby blue pajamas and matching bathrobe- good to know some things haven't changed. Clay's pajamas have always been that color, ever since I can remember.

He comes out of the house looking slightly confused, like he didn't expect me to be there. He stares for a moment, but then realization dawns on his face. A smile cracks his confusion.

And all of a sudden, I'm running over there, running across the driveway, across the sidewalk, right into his arms. The ones that have always been open for me- angry, confused, wasted, depressed, gay. Whatever I was, there he was, not caring who I was, knowing that underneath whatever I was displaying, I was still me. Spencer. Just Spencer.

He pulls me close to him and I remember why he's my favorite brother. I remember what he did for me. And I cry. I cry buckets all over him, and he does the same. His tears land on my shoulder, and again, I remember.

_I hadn't spoken to anyone in my family other than Clay for the last few weeks, ever since I was outed to my family. I lost Elle, the one person I thought would stand by me if my family found out, and Clay was all I had. Well, I had Luke, too, but he was banned from my house and I was banned from leaving it._

_It was the middle of July when I started wondering if I could live out my senior year like this, cooped up and talking to ex-gay ministers every day. I didn't know how much more I could take. I knew that I couldn't just run away. I was desperate, but I wasn't stupid. And just as I sat pondering this, Clay knocked on my door._

"_Come on in." Clay still loved me, and still lived in this house. So I could talk to him. I could tell him. I could cry to him._

_He stepped in, looking rather sheepish. "Spencer. We need to talk."_

_For a heart-pulling, gut-wrenching moment as he shut the door, I began to think that maybe he would tell me he changed his mind. That he hated me and thought I was something inherently evil. _

"_I want to offer you a home," he stated bluntly._

_I was confused. "I have a home."_

_He scoffed. "You have a house. This, this is not a home." I looked down at my hands and said nothing. Because I knew he was right._

"_How?"_

"_I'm going away for college next year."_

_I wrinkled my nose. "Yeah. You're going to Stanford."_

_Clay shook his head with a little smirk and then looked at me, dead serious. "Not if you don't want me to."_

"_Clay, I don't want to-"_

"_Listen. There's college right by here, only about a half hour away. Denison University. It has a pretty good Black Studies program that I could take for a year," he explained slowly. "I applied there just in case something terrible happened- like someone got sick or shot or injured or some other type of crisis. I applied there so I wouldn't have to leave Harbor Hills. Just in case."_

"_I still don't get it."_

"_I'm going to rent an apartment or maybe a row house. I could really use a roommate." Clay smiled at me. "What do you say?"_

_I stared right at him and knew he wasn't kidding. Clay wanted to save me from the hell that had become my family. He would willingly give up a year at Stanford for me. I never thought that I'd have someone in my life who would love me enough to do that._

"_Clay..."_

"_Just say yes."_

_I couldn't even choke out that single word as I teared up. I just hugged him. And he hugged me back._

Clay takes a step back, but still holds onto me. "I missed you," he states plainly, almost sternly.

"Me too," I laugh. "But I'm back now. I'm home."

"Yeah, I guess you are." He ropes me in for another hug. I'm lost in the feeling that I've been missing for the past five years. It's such a different feeling that I can't find anywhere else; brotherly hugs are like nothing else in this world.

I hear Ashley and Chelsea walk by with the suitcases, but I don't open my eyes. I'm too busy involved in this peaceful sensation. I'm too busy meeting my brother for the first time in five years. And I feel it again. I feel the Ohio innocence return, if only for a second.

Clay and I finally break apart with nothing but sad smiles on our faces. "I know that you don't want to talk now." He pauses and gives me a little chuckle. "But tomorrow I expect a long discussion about your activities in LA."

I nod and follow him into the house, silently dreading the talk. That would mean I would have to tell him about all the guys I dated to prove something to myself- something that wasn't true, something he'd given up his first year of college to protect. Maybe I'm overreacting; somehow I think I am, because Clay understands.

He leads me to the top of the stairs and points down the hall. "Chris is sleeping next door to you and Ashley. Your room is on the end of the hall. Very last door."

"Thanks," I mutter, and then scoop him into another hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

In our room, Ashley is already there. She's started to unpack, and has laid some clothes in the drawers. She's busy, and doesn't really notice me come in.

I shut the door and allow myself to process my feelings. Ashley seems to sense that I need a moment to myself, and doesn't say anything.

It's good to see Clay again; it really is. The feeling of seeing him, still loving me, after five years is... indescribable. It's a feeling I didn't even know existed, it feels that good. Love is a powerful thing, whether it be in the family or in a romantic relationship. It still brings out the best in me, brings out the hidden and buried parts.

But though Clay is great and I can't wait to meet my nephew tomorrow, I can't help but think that sooner or later I'm going to run into someone from my past. Not Luke; I'm actually going to call him sometime soon. But my family or Elle or pretty much anyone else in town. They all know my story, and I don't want to go through all the hate again. Not again.

"You doing okay?" Ashley puts her hand gently on my shoulder, startling me slightly.

I turn to face her, my eyes dry this time, but my weak smile somber. "I think so."

"Good." She gives me a once-over and adds, "But you could probably use a hug." She doesn't even wait for an answer; she wraps her arms around my waist, and I naturally place mine around her neck. It's so comfortable; so unlike my hug with Clay. With her, it's peaceful and natural and there's something inside of me yelling, "This is so right!" And suddenly, I'm not ready for that yet.

I pull back slightly. Her face is puzzled, but she doesn't question my move. We silently get into our pajamas and brush our teeth. I think about what I feel around her, what she makes my head, my heart, my everything do. I don't know how I can not want that. But I can't. I'm not ready yet. I want to be, but I'm not.

We go to our beds. Our separate beds. This is the first time in three days that we've slept apart. Normally, I would be over there already, snuggled up close to Ashley, but tonight I'm not, even though she's purposefully moved over to the left half of her bed to make sure that there's room for me. Because we are in Ohio now. And there are so many things that I can only feel in this state, in this town, that I can't feel anywhere else. Scary things. Hurtful things. Mind-numbingly terrifying things.

And so I roll over on my side on my empty bed. I try to get comfortable, but all my emotions swell up to a feeling of unforgiving emptiness.


	9. Love and Speeches

**A/N:** I know I promised a meeting with Luke this chapter, but I'm a liar. That's next chapter. Sorry if anyone was superly anticipating that. Also, I noticed that I didn't give Elle a last name, so I've decided that it's going to be Doherty. That'll help to avoid confusion in this chapter. Also, there's a speech at the end of this chapter that will probably offend some people. But that's what it's supposed to do. It in no way reflects any of my views to LGBT people, seeing as I am a lesbian myself. I figure that it's time to mention once again that this story in no way reflects the views of the people in Harbor Hills at all. I just picked the town because it has a cool.

**Continuity Error:** I seem to have too many of these. But two reviewers (me and 1treehillcharmed) pointed out to me that I'd said earlier that there was only one bed. They're right. That's what I said, but I'm changing it now. It works with the direction I'm headed. I just don't really think out the little details... or remember them. Sorry for the confusion.

I'm not happy when I wake up that morning. For one thing, I'm alone in my bed, freezing from the lack of body heat that's been accompanying me for the last few nights. I know it's summer. But I'm still freezing.

For another thing, I have to have a heart-to-heart talk with my brother. During this talk, he'll probably ask me about my life. I'll probably tell him about my progress in college, and then he'll ask if I've been seeing anyone, and then I'll probably let it slip out that I've been dating guys. He'll look at me with a confused look, and I'll feel terrible and guilty and many other bad things. It won't end well.

Ashley still sleeps peacefully in the other bed, on her stomach with her face smushed into the pillow, hair spilling out everywhere. I can't help but notice that the right half of the bed is still bare and empty, like she's been waiting for me to slip under there all night. And it absolutely breaks my heart that I can't let myself do that. Damn Ohio.

I walk over to the closet, which is right next to Ashley's bed. I can't help but sneak a peek at her sleeping form with an adorable little smirk on her face. She looks perfect. She looks like an angel. I want to reach down and wake her up with a-

No. I can't even think anything like that. Why?

Because I can't.

But I almost can't help it.

Almost.

I allow my mind a bit of leeway in its wanderings, but all these thoughts about Ashley just lead me back to my greatest fear, my greatest anxiety, my greatest joy from this place: Elle.

_Elle and I had been dating in secret for three months now. So far, only Luke and James knew about it. We told ourselves that we didn't care about the fact that our families would absolutely hate us if they found out. But we did. We did care. For now, though, we were content with just being us. _

_One afternoon in February, Elle and I were walking home from school. We decided to cut through the cemetery, like we always did. No one in Harbor Hills really accepted any type of LBGT people, and the cemetery was always deserted in the winter, except on Sundays when little Mrs. Perkins came to visit her husband's grave. We were resigned to sitting under the trees in the graveyard to hide from everybody. _

_On that particular day, the temperature had dropped to about 25 degrees, so we had both bundled up in big bulky coats to go out in the snow left over from Monday. We made our way over to our favorite tree, a tiny pine which we called the Thinking Tree. At Christmas, we decorated it with a couple of baubles and ornaments. Nobody seemed to mind._

_Elle took my backpack and hung it up on one of the tree's lower branches and did the same with hers before sitting down next to me._

"_What do you wanna do today?" she asked, smiling as I put my head on her shoulder._

"_I dunno. Whatever."_

_She decided to humor me. "Well, we could go to your house and be educated on how much we're hated, we could go to my house and educated on how much we're hated, we could go over to Luke's and watch him and James make-out, or we could sit here and make-out."_

"_I like option D," I replied._

_She smirked. "Good. I was hoping you'd pick that one."  
_

"_Ah, so it was a plant?"_

"_Are you forgetting what option D was?"_

_I leaned in and shared a kiss with her; we'd been exploring each other's mouths for a while now, and knew exactly what to do to the other one to, well, you know._

_Unfortunately, right as she was in the process of playing around with my earlobe (which, if you must know, is my "spot"), her phone rang._

"_Damn," she swore, searching her bag for it. "Just as it was getting good."_

_I didn't have anything to say to that, so I just gave her a kiss on the cheek as she pulled out her phone._

"_Hey."_

"_No. Me and Spencer are just hanging out."_

"_Fine. I'll be there in a sec."_

_I looked at her curiously. Hearing only half of a phone conversation can be exceptionally annoying. "What's up?"_

"_Mom wants me home," she grumbled. "She's got some sort of church thing I gotta go to."_

"_Will this church thing involve you in a hot dress?" I asked hopefully._

_Elle just laughed._

I finish with my clothes and go down the steps to the kitchen, where Clay sits in a T-shirt and cargo pants reading a newspaper. He's eating a bowl of Cheerio's by himself with an empty bowl and a spoon in the seat next to him. I can only assume that those are for me.

I slide into the chair and quietly pour myself some Cheerio's. There's a glass of milk next to the bowl, but no milk jug. Because Clay knows I only have my cereal dry. He knows so much about me, and it just makes me feel more scared about talking to him.

"Spencer," he begins. "What happened to you?"

I look down. "What do you mean?"

"When I talk to you on the phone, you're so full of life, always happy and bubbly. When you were little, you were the same way. And even after Elle, you were always happy with me at the apartment when it was just us. Now you're back, and you're so drained. Drained of everything. What happened?"

I fiddle with my spoon before answering. "Life happened." I know it's a terrible answer, but I can't give him the real answer. I just can't. Besides, he'll probably figure it out anyway.

"Ashley happened," he corrects. Like I said, he figured it out. "What's so bad about falling in love again?"

"Because she's still a girl," I tell him lamely.

"Seeing as you're gay, I'd expect the person you love to be a girl."

I sigh. "But no one likes me as gay. They all liked me better as straight," I mutter. I'm sick of trying to prove to people that I'm more than my sexuality, that it doesn't affect who I am. I've always been Spencer, and I wish that everyone could see me as that, not as the lesbian.

Clay looks at me contemplatively. "Have you ever heard the quote 'Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind?'"

I shake my head, but I have a feeling I know where this is going.

"Dr. Seuss said it. And it's true, Spencer," he says. "You just have to see who really matters in your life. The people who really matter are the ones who don't care."

"So you're saying that Mom and Dad and Glen and Elle don't matter?" He's spinning my head in all different directions.

"They do matter, to some level, but they don't really matter," he explains. "They hardly matter as much to me as they used to, because of how they treated you. Spence, there are people out there who really care about you." He smiles wickedly. "You don't have to look farther than that upstairs bedroom."

I know he means Ashley. I know I mean a lot to her, and she means so much to me. But I just can't care about her the way I know she wants me to... the way I want to, but can only admit to myself in the darkness of night, when I'm alone. That way, when I wake up, I can pretend it was just a dream.

"It's complicated," I tell him, even though it's not.

"Spencer, the only thing complicated here is your past," he tells me, his voice becoming slightly uneven. "So I suggest you get up off your ass and do something about fixing it. I suggest you do this before everyone who matters to you, who cares about you, gets so pissed at you that they just give up on you." He's really frustrated with me now. He gets up from the table, leaving me with my stupid half-eaten bowl of Cheerio's. I know he's right. I can't just keep living life this way. But how do I get out of this hole?

Almost like an answer to that question, Ashley shuffles down the stairs, rubbing her eyes and playing with her hair that she hasn't brushed yet. I don't look at her, but I still can't stop the tears from forming in my eyes. Why? Why the hell can't I just get over it?

She notices, of course. She notices my tears and my current state of hurt. She pulls out the chair next to me and sits down. "What's up?"

"I can't figure it out," I spit out. "I can't figure out how to leave it all behind."

"Don't force yourself," she advises, reaching out for my hand. I pull away. Because I'm not ready for that. Not yet. Not here. She takes it in stride and continues. "It'll happen when it happens, but it won't happen if don't go out looking for it."

I don't say anything.

"That's why today, you are taking me out on this little town," she informs me. "We are going to all the places you used, and you are going to remember everything you've tried to forget. And then you're going to get over it, got it?" Her voice is so unlike Clay's when she talks to me; it's so gentle, and yet forceful at the same time. She knows exactly how to make me do whatever needs to be done.

And as I get ready to face Harbor Hills for the first time in four years, I think of Elle again. I think of the moments we spent together, and the one moment that forever changed our relationship and our lives.

_It was late in June after junior year when the moving van pulled up to the house on Brayden Way. It had been empty for about three months, and everyone was eager to meet the new people who were moving in. All that was known was that they were a young couple from Michigan and didn't have any children._

_Since our moms were busy with their sewing the night the couple got settled in, they sent me and Elle over with the cookies they'd baked for them earlier that day._

_Elle and I grumbled about it, but in reality, we were happy to get away from our moms. Watching them knit and talk about the latest episode of _Oprah_ was not exactly the most thrilling activity. Unfortunately for us, they seemed to think it was._

_Our relationship was still going strong- in secret. We spent days counting how long it would be until we left for college, where we could be open about it. Even then if our parents found out about us, we would have college as a safe haven to go back to where we could be us._

"_Do you know anything about these new people?" I asked Elle. Her mom generally got the best gossip in the town- don't ask me why, because I don't know._

_She shrugged. "Not more than the same old, same old. But I guess we'll find out soon enough."_

_Mrs. Tucker, another one of our moms' friends, called out to us from down the street. "Oh, girls, how are you?"_

_We turned around with forced smiles. "We're fine, Mrs. Tucker. And how are you?" Elle said politely. I made a face behind her back. We didn't really like Mrs. Tucker._

"_I'm deeply troubled, girls," she told us, coming nearer. Elle and I exchanged glances. Usually when Mrs. Tucker was "deeply troubled," it meant that she'd misplaced her glasses or something equally mundane._

"_What's the matter?" I asked._

_She got distracted by the tray of cookies in my hand. "Oh, I hope those cookies are not for the new couple."_

"_Why not?" Elle wondered._

"_They are..." She paused dramatically, trying to find the right word. "Unseemly."_

"_Like unseemly how?" Elle asked curiously._

"_Are they drunks or something?" I added._

"_Worse," she said with a seriousness so deep, it was almost comical. She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "They're lesbians."_

_My heart just about stopped at that moment, and I'd be willing to bet that Elle's did, too. _

_The next day, Mom was parading around the house, up in arms about the new couple, whose names were Dani and Kim. She was amazingly angry about it and wondered how exactly they thought that they could invade the "perfect utopia" that was Harbor Hills. I said nothing. Glen and my dad both agreed with her, while Clay also said nothing. _

"_But don't worry, we'll make them want to leave soon enough," Mom assured us._

"_How's that?" Glen asked as he swallowed as monstrous helping of pancakes._

"_Mrs. Doherty and Father Samuels have organized a protest in the park in a few days," Mom said gleefully._

"_Sweet!" Glen exclaimed._

"_That's good," Dad commented. "We can get them out of here for good." I was really dreading that day._

_When it came time for the protest, which really consisted of a group of people gathering in the park to hear a speech and sign a petition about getting Dani and Kim kicked out, I was absolutely trembling. Elle and I sat together in the very back, our hands constantly brushing up against each other in the most innocent way possible. To a casual observer, it would look like we were just swinging our hands around and they occasionally ended up hitting each other._

_Mrs. Doherty took the stand. That was odd, because Father Samuels was supposed to be delivering the speech. "Father Samuels is not feeling well today, so I will be speaking on the evils of homosexuality." A cheer erupted for the audience. Elle and I were near tears. Neither of us had anticipated her mother to be the one to tell the entire town that what we felt was evil and an abomination to God._

"_It has come to my attention that the new neighbors on Brayden Way are a lesbian couple. This is absolutely outrageous. The Hawkins live next door to them, and they have two young children. Think what these lesbians can do to the children. They can corrupt them and turn them to side of Satan. Do we really want them and other neighborhood kids exposed to this?"_

_A rousing "NO!" rang out from the crowd. Elle and I slumped further into our seats. My heart felt like it was being ripped in two as Mrs. Doherty spoke; I couldn't imagine that this level of hate could pour from anyone. And this was just the beginning of the speech._

"_And that's not all. This couple is just the final action that sets us off. We now have seven openly gay or lesbian students at Harbor Hills High School. There have been multiple requests for the creation of a Gay-Straight Alliance there. Thankfully, the principal has refused these offers."_

_More cheering._

"_Satan is corrupting our youth. We need to stamp out homosexuality NOW! The Bible condemns it as a sin. Do you want your children to go to Hell for something that can so easily be controlled?"_

_As the entire audience once again shouted "NO," Elle and I were having the same thoughts: it's NOT something that can easily be controlled. _

"_Homosexuality is wrong. It is unnatural. God created Adam and Eve as a testament to the sacrament of love between a man and a woman. The Bible does not teach the story of Adam and Steve or Anna and Eve. It is Adam and Eve, a man and a woman. Anyone who chooses to go against this, to act on that lifestyle, shall rot in Hell._

"_In Leviticus 20:13, it states that, __If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death. Their blood shall be upon them.' We know that if one promises himself to God, then death is out of the question. Heaven is the only option. This passage clearly states that homosexuals will die, and therefore never reach Heaven. They will lay in Hell for eternity, because what they are doing is wrong._

"_Anyone who chooses to engage is this behavior is giving into temptation. God offers us with temptation every day. Many of us face the average temptations: alcohol, drugs, sex, etc. But homosexuals have been given an extra task from God to rise above. Successfully converted homosexuals are the pride of this church, for they have overcome the temptation that God has thrown to them. Those choose to engage in it are weak. They have not fulfilled God's plan for them. They are condemned to a life of suffering, and this suffering will continue after death._

"_Let us all rise above homosexuality. Let us take into heart these seven children and the new lesbian couple who have been misled by Satan. Let us turn them to the light of the Lord and forgive them of their sins. Let us make them whole again, because it is never to late to forgive someone for their sins."_

_The end of the speech was met with rousing applause and standing ovations. Elle and I bolted out as quickly as possible to hide under the Thinking Tree._

_We didn't say any words as we buried ourselves into each other's arms and cried ourselves dry, trying to reassure the other with soft kisses._

_And we knew that things would only get harder, and we told ourselves that it wouldn't matter. But from that moment on, our relationship was never the same._


	10. Boys and Girls

**A/N:** Here's the chapter where it's all revealed. Or at least the big part. There's still a hole or two, but this is the big Kahuna or whatever that expression is... Anyway, I hope that the climax is what you were expecting and you aren't disappointed with it. Also, I know there's something wrong about the ending, but I can't pinpoint it. If anyone can, can you tell me? Thanks.

Ashley comes around the corner, dressed for a day out in the sun with her short little khaki shorts, white tank top, flip-flops, and sunglasses. Breathe, Spencer, breathe. I'm finding it kind of hard to do that lately as she seems to have a knack for leaving me breathless. "Ready to show me the incredibly dull town of your upbringing?" She's cheery and upbeat today, which I suppose is for my benefit.

"Do I have to?" I groan. The more I think about it, the less I think that it's a good idea.

"Yes." And that's the end of that as she grabs me by the hand and drags me forcefully out of the house.

Chelsea sees us as she's getting into her car with little Chris, who I have yet to meet. Even Ashley is distracted by his cuteness. "Hey, you two. I was taking Chris out shopping with me. Wanna come?"

"Sorry, we can't," Ashley informs her. "We're on official business today. Spencer here is taking me on a tour of beautiful Harbor Hills. But I'd really like to spend some time with this adorable little guy," she adds to Chris. "What's your name?"

"Chris," he says boldly. "What's yours?"

Ashley laughs. "Right on, little dude. Can I have a high five for that?" She holds up her hand and he slaps it hard. "Nice. I'm Ashley, by the way. I'm your Auntie Spencer's friend."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Ashley," he tells her politely.

"It's just Ashley to you, buddy," she jokes. "None of that 'Ms.' stuff. I'm not old yet."

"Okay," he says with a shrug.

"Oh, and this is your Auntie Spencer," Ashley adds.

"Hi, Auntie Spencer," Chris greets. "Your friend is cool."

I chuckle. "Glad you think so. But Ashley and I have to leave. We'll see you later?"

"Yeah!" Chris cheers. Me and Ashley both look at Chelsea with smirks on our faces. She just returns them.

We wave good-bye to Chelsea before hopping into Ashley's car. "Where to first?"

I know exactly where I want to go first. We used to hang out there all the time, me and Luke and Elle.

"Burner's."

She gives me a funny look. "Burner's? Sounds like a tattoo parlor or cigar shop or something."

"It's a cafe on Main Street, relax," I laugh. "I was an innocent little girl."

"You're an innocent little woman, too," Ashley mutters.

"I heard that!"

"I know."

We arrive at Burner's and, as usual, it's packed. She parks the car and suddenly it's like I'm glued to the seat. I can't face all these people, all the ones who hated me all those years ago. They hated me for who I am, what they thought I'd done to Elle. Would they recognize me? And if they did, would they kick me out of Harbor Hills? Or would they just beat me to a bloody pulp?

"Spence, we can't accomplish anything if you just sit in the car all day," Ashley tells me lightly. "C'mon. I wanna see where you came from." She unlocks the door to the car and pulls me out. Even as I step out, I don't let go of her hand. Because of the friendship, I tell myself. That's why I'm holding her hand. Holding onto her.

We swing open the doors of Burner's. My heart and head are both racing with adrenaline and memories. I keep my head down so that I don't have to literally face anyone. Ashley's head is moving around, I can tell, and she's looking for something to eat. I already had some Cheerio's with Clay, and that is enough for me and my already upset stomach.

"Oh. My. God! Spencer!" I hear that voice, and I don't run away scared, because I know that voice. I love that voice.

"Hey, Luke." I lift my head and find myself smothered in a big hug, Ashley's hand dropping from mine.

"I cannot believe you're back!" His loud voice is starting to annoy some customers.

"Hey, um, Luke, you wanna take this outside?" I ask him for fear of being recognized by one of the many heads looking at Luke.

"Yeah, sure, sure," he mutters distractedly, scanning the crowd. "Mitch, c'mere."

A guy about our age with light scraggly brown hair and a tray with two coffee cups on them spots Luke and nods. He hurries over and gives me and Ashley a look. "Luke, who're these two fine young ladies?"

Ashley rolls her eyes at him. "I'm gay."

The guy laughs. "Really? Me too." He leans in close to her, jerks his head to Luke, and whispers conspiratorially, "That's my boyfriend."

Ashley decides to humor him. She points to me and says, "See that hottie?"

He whistles jokingly and nods.

"That's not my girlfriend." He laughs and extends his hand.

"I'm Mitch."

"Ashley." She then turns to Luke and says, "There's gotta be some sort of history between you two."

"Yeah, there is, but we talk outside," I tell her, pushing her out the door with Luke and Mitch giving each other strange glances behind us.

We make our way out to the parking lot and then Luke leads us to the small space of grass with a couple of picnic tables spread out on it. We spent lots of time here as kids, and I'm hit with another wave of memories. But this time I don't let them take over. I tell myself to focus on Luke and Mitch and the familiarity of the space. Anything but memories. And Ashley's ass. Which, by the way, I'm not focusing on. It's just something I shouldn't be focusing on, in case I somewhere in the future get the urge to focus on that. I just won't focus on it. I won't.

"I'm Luke." He shakes Ashley's hand. "I'm Spencer's best friend from way back when." He pauses and then chuckles. "That rhymes." 

I can see that Ashley thinks he's a little dorky, but fun, anyways. "What are you up to, Luke?"

"Well, there's Mitch," Luke began. "But yeah, same old, same old. I'm at Denison University, focusing on creative writing. I've got about fifty pages of a novel going, so, it's good. All good." He stops and smiles and then seems to remember that he hasn't seen me in four years. "Oh, right!" He turns to Ashley. "You, little Miss Ashley, are a goddess."

Ashley chuckles. "Yeah, I've been getting that lately."

"How'd you get our girl to come back out here?" Luke looks at me like I've done something wrong, which I guess I have.

"I dunno." She faces me and smiles. "I just did." And that's the beauty of it. She just did. I barely had to think about coming back here, as long as she was here with me. Because I do feel safest with her, and I think I always will.

"I'm kinda at a loss here," Mitch pipes up.

"Judging by your face, I'd guess you're always at a loss," Ashley jokes.

"Aren't we just a fun little bitch?" Mitch pokes back.

"Stop it, you two are gonna drive me crazy," Luke gripes.

"But you still love me," Mitch says with big doe eyes.

Luke grumbles something angrily and Mitch goes, "Now put it there." He points to his lips and Luke gives him a grudging kiss. I think that they're absolutely adorable together, and quite the funny pair. I can't help but think how they both remind me of me and Ashley, and that maybe we would be like that as a couple. If we were a couple. Which we never will be.

"Such cute little gay boys," Ashley says. Mitch sticks his tongue out at her.

"It's nice to know that your contempt for each other is mutual," I put in.

"It's also nice to know that Mitch has finally found a worthy sparring partner," Luke adds. "He used to try and do this whole snark thing with me, and needless to say, well, I'm not exactly witty when it comes to... anything."

I laugh, and it feels good. I'm talking to Luke just like old times; we're talking about something stupid and pointless, but that's what I love about him. We can just talk, and it doesn't have to go anywhere. And I suddenly realize how much I've missed him.

"We should all have lunch sometime," Ashley suggests. "I'd love to get to know you some more, Luke. And you..." She gives Mitch a quick once over. "Not so much."

"I'm game, and I'm sure my sulking boyfriend will get over it," Luke tells me. "I'm not sure when we're free, but we'll call you, okay?"

"We're staying at Clay's house. I assume you have that number?" I'm smiling; I can't believe that I'm in Ohio and smiling again. It's not even a bittersweet smile. It's a real smile.

"Yep. But we gotta roll. Some of us have summer jobs, you know," Mitch explains.

"Hey, this is an emotional healing experience for Spencer," Ashley informs him tartly, gripping my shoulders with her hands.

Mitch raises an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Psychological help. And a machine gun," she adds as an afterthought. "See you later, boys!" She waves to a bemused Luke and a slightly confused Mitch.

"Ashley, can't you at least try to be nice to poor Mitch?" I ask, giggling as we get back in the car.

"Didn't you ever hear the term 'playful banter?'" Ashley jokes back.

I smirk, well, playfully at her. "I thought that was for couples."

"Oh, really? Then why are we doing it right now?" It's not meant to have an answer, I know. It's for me to think about it. The truth is, I know that we act like a couple. We hold hands, we hug all the time, we're both very physical with each other. But something in me won't let me cross that line. That line between us that divides us. And the funny thing is, I drew. I'm still holding the pencil, and I can just flip it over and erase the whole thing. But Ohio is back. I can't cross that line. I can't cross it because of Elle.

_It's been three weeks since we listened to that speech. You know perfectly well which one. Elle and I had been cold. She wouldn't kiss me as often, and when she did, it felt like she was holding back. Scared. I'd try to talk about it, but she wouldn't. We'd been hanging out less and less. We'd had one date in those three weeks. She hardly even talked to Luke or James anymore. We all were getting really worried about her, me and Luke and James, that is, but none of us had that much experience with this type of situation. So one day, to save Elle, I made a phone call._

"_Hello. This is Kim." Yes, the same Kim who had been verbally attacked in the park that day three weeks ago. The same Kim who had moved in here with her partner Dani just so they could have a better life. Kim worked at the music store on Rider. Elle and I would hang out there sometimes, just to talk to her. She didn't know about us, but I suspected that she had guessed. _

"_Hi, Kim. It's Spencer." My voice cracked as I said this, and I felt like I needed to cry._

_Kim must've sensed it, because she quickly said, "You wanna come over?"_

"_Yeah." I hung up rudely, and then ran out of the house, down the street to Kim and Dani's house._

_The door opened before I even rang the doorbell. At that point, I was too worried to even care who saw me go in. Normally, I would've been scared silly about being seen in their house, but my worry for my girlfriend overcame my fear._

"_Spencer, what's the matter? You look like you're going through hell," Kim said sympathetically. "C'mon, let's go over and sit down."_

_So we sat on the couch, and I was feeling pretty numb at that point. "Kim... I'm gay. And Elle is my girlfriend."_

_Kim smiled. "I'd have bet on that. So what's wrong?"_

_I took a deep breath. "Ever since that speech a few weeks back, she's been acting, well... different. She barely even acts like she likes me anymore."_

"_It was her mom who made that speech, right?"_

_I nodded. Kim shook her head. "It amazes me how bigoted people can be still. But Elle seems to want acceptance from her mother, and the way she is, she can never get it. She'll never go to a therapist with this, so you have to be that therapist."_

_I looked down, uncomfortable and full of self-doubt. "I don't know how to do that."_

_Kim shifted on the couch. "Lucky for you, I had a girlfriend in the same situation as this. Lucky for me, I had my mom to talk to. She didn't care that I was gay. She told me that I just needed to confront my girlfriend and tell her why it's bothering me."_

"_Did it work?"_

_Kim shrugged. "For the most part. I told her about it, and then I listed all the good things about being gay that we never have to worry about, like birth control and stuff. She started laughing and then I showed her all these stories about people who have overcome even worse problems, and she got around to accepting herself for it. We stayed together for three years before we broke up, and that was just because we didn't have our old spark. It had nothing to do with us being a lesbian couple." She took a breath and flashed me a sad smile. "Did that help at all?"_

_For the first time, I thought that I might have a shot at winning Elle back. Winning us back. I made a plan to talk to her about it at the barbecue that night. But I never got the chance._

As I'm thinking about this, it hits me what the problem is. It's not Elle I can't forgive, because over the years, I've seen her side of the story. I get her motives. But what I can't do is accept the fact that it happened. By keeping this to myself, I can pretend it was a bad dream. I know that sounds stupid, but it's true. It's what I'm thinking.

So I make a completely rash, split second decision to do something about it. "Ashley?"

"Hmm?" She's not really paying attention to me; she's looking around, taking in the sights of Harbor Hills.

"Turn around and take us home." I'm dead serious, and my tone conveys it.

"Why?" she asks even as she begins a U-turn.

"Because I want to tell you. I want to tell about Elle. I want to tell you about Ohio." She nods and we drive the rest of the way back in silence. My heart is going crazy, and I can tell that hers is too. She keeps shooting glances at me, like she needs me to say something. My throat's tensing up so much, I don't even know if I can. But I told her I would. So I will.

Ashley kills the engine and makes her way to the door. She's there before me, waiting, bouncing on the balls of her feet. I open the house, and a quick sweep tells me that Chelsea and Chris aren't back. Clay's at work, so we don't have to worry about him.

"Let's go to the bedroom," I manage weakly. She squeezes my hand for support, but I don't let her let go. I hold it all the way up the stairs, down the hall, into the room, onto her bed. Our bed.

"Start from the beginning," she whispers, her voice raspy like it gets when she's sad or scared.

I take a deep breath, and I start. I tell her about my family and how close we were, then I tell her about Luke and his coming out. I tell her about me and Elle's first kiss and our first date. I tell her about the Thinking Tree and our moms. I tell her about the speech and our crumbling relationship. I tell about talking to Kim. And then I tell her about the barbecue.

"So that night was our town barbecue. We had one every year on the Fourth of July. It's like a big fair, and everyone comes out and celebrates the holiday. There's fireworks and pie eating contests and a dunk tank, and it's generally really fun. I was planning on talking to Elle about what Kim said- I'd even found the Matthew Shepard story and printed it out for her." I pause and Ashley pulls me closer so that I'm leaning up against her chest. She knows that having her arms around my body calms me down, and she can sense that I need that right now.

"I spotted Elle hanging around at the dunk tank, which was pretty much the most popular at the place. I went up and told her that we needed to talk. She just shook her head. I told her that I'd talked to Kim, and she tried to walk away. I insisted that it was really important, and grabbed her arm to stop her from moving." I try not cry as I reach the next part, but it doesn't work. I can't help but let the tears fall. Ashley holds me tighter and runs her fingers through my hair. I can do this. I can finish. I can get it out.

"And then she screams, 'Get your filthy hands off me, lesbian!'" Ashley gasps audibly at this, but doesn't say anything. She sits there in silence. "I look at her like I don't know what she's talking about, but suddenly all the heads in the place turn and stare. She pulled her hand away and starts going off to me about how I've been trying to date her and kiss her against her will. How awful I am that I have to do this to another person. I didn't do a thing but cry. Her mom heard the whole thing, and came running. She hugged Elle tight, but she slapped me full in the face." At that point, I notice something wet on my head, and realize that it's one of Ashley's tears. She's crying too, even though I know she's trying to be strong for me. But it makes me feel even better that she's crying with me, that she understands my story.

"My mom came and stared at me like she had just learned I was pregnant or a murderer or something awful. She told me to get out and that she didn't want me in her house. I didn't even defend myself against the accusations; I didn't even try to say it had been consensual. Me and Elle just stood there kind of shell-shocked at each other, like she was just realizing what she had done, until Clay came over and took me in his car, saying that if I wanted to be safe, I should leave for the night. He told me that he didn't care if I was gay, and then we drove to a Wal-Mart parking lot about a half hour away where we spent the night." My tears pour down hard as ever. "That's what happened. That's why I hate it here."

"Oh, Spencer," is all she says before kissing me on the top of the head and burying me in her arms. I give myself over to the warm feeling in her, the mixed feelings in me that make me happy for finally getting it out in the open to someone and making it real, and the other feelings that just plain hurt because remembering that still hurt.

I give myself over to her and her comforting words and her soft arms and her gentle touch and her loving eyes, feeling a warm wave wash over me.

Safety.

Tenderness.

Caring.

Innocence.

Those are the feelings I get when I let myself fully allow Ashley in my life.

I finally recognize those feelings for what they are, what they can become.

And for the first time in five years, I allow myself to fall in love with a woman.


	11. Life and Death

I wake up to see the sun streaming through the windows of our bedroom. Apparently, Ashley and I had fallen asleep after my little story. Well, I'd probably cried myself to sleep. She probably just thought she could use a nap after all that taking care of me.

Not that I mind, of course. Waking up snuggled into her. I can tell that she's already awake because I can feel her fingers moving through my hair. I roll over to face her.

"Hey there, sleepy head. Have a nice nap?" She greets me with a kiss on the top of the head.

"Yeah. You?"

She shakes her head. "I didn't sleep. I just sat here. You were having nightmares," she states matter-of-factly. "There was lots of crying and screaming and stuff. It took a lot to calm you down."

I'm overwhelmed by how sweet she's being. "Thanks. It means a lot that you wouldn't abandon me, even when I'm asleep."

"How could I after what you told me? And actually, before that too. I could never leave you." She's looking straight into my eyes and I can swear that we're about to kiss, but before we do, my brain shouts STOP IT! I pull away quickly and turn the other way. I can't see the look on Ashley's face, but I bet she's confused. I know I am. Why can't I let myself kiss her? I can admit that I've totally fallen in love with her, but I can't kiss her. What is wrong with me?

"You okay?" Ashley whispers, breaking up my deep thought.

"Kinda," I mumble. "It's weird hearing myself talk about it. It's weird, that's all. Just weird."

She smiles sympathetically and resumes her playing with my hair. I don't say anything; there's not much to say. I'm tired, drained. I'm holding onto her while everything else feels like it's slipping out of place. Now that I've told her, I feel like the world is going to come crashing down on me. But oddly, as I look up at her still happy face, I can still think that it'll be okay.

"Spencer! Ashley! You up there?" Clay calls from downstairs, shattering the moment that I had already cracked.

"Yeah," she yells back, never once untangling her hand from my hair. "What's up?"

"Luke's calling." She looks at me with a smirk. She's being playful right now, and I can't tell why. I decide to ignore it and go down to talk to Luke.

I shift out of her grasp, but her hand stays in mine as long as possible. I don't know what to make of it. I'm really not sure what to make of anything right now. I feel absolutely numb as I walk out of the room, losing all contact with Ashley. I just know that Luke's voice will make sense, and that he can talk anything out of me, even if I don't know it exists.

I take the cordless phone from a smiling Clay. "You told her, huh?" I guess he can tell by the bittersweet look on my face.

"Yeah."

He shakes his head goodnaturedly at me and then walks off, leaving me in privacy.

"Hey, Luke." My voice sounds dead, even to myself.

"Oh my God. Did you tell her?"

"Yeah." I'm still responding in a monotone, not able to shake the almost comfortable feeling of nothingness that is coming over me right now. I'm not sure where it's from, but if I had to guess, I'd bet that it's from the aftermath of thinking about that day again. From waking up in the arms of a beautiful girl, a place where I feel completely safe, to going out on my own. Walking through a house, talking on a phone, without a safety net.

"Did she, like, shun you or something, because you sound kinda funny." Luke's voice is packed with concern.

"No." I smile, against my will. "She didn't. She... she was really sweet. She just held me until I fell asleep, and even stayed with me then. And when I woke up, she was still there." My voice gains its life back, and I think Luke can sense it.

"Well, I called to talk you about lunch, but now we're talking about Ashley. So sit down, because this is gonna be a long talk." I laugh at him, but inside I'm almost a little scared about what he'll say. Since he came out, Luke has been less afraid to speak his mind, especially to me.

I make sure that there's nobody anywhere near the living room before leaning into the comfortable couch. "Okay, I'm sitting. What's the big deal?"

"First, what the hell is wrong with you?" His tone is joking, but I can tell that he's trying to get to the root of something.

Unfortunately for him, I have no idea what that something is. "Huh?"

"Oh, come on. From what you told me, you and Ashley have this really deep bond and she's all sweet to you and stuff and you care about her and trust her enough to tell her about Elle, and, well, I'm gay and even I can see she's a friggin' sexy beast, and-"

I decide that that would be a good place to stop him. "Luke. Where is this going?"

I hear him take a breath like he's calming himself down. "You are totally smitten with Ashley. And it's pretty damn obvious she's into you too."

I sigh. "You're right, at least about me. I'm pretty sure you're right about her, but I just can't."

"Why do I get the feeling you've had this conversation with a couple of people, not to mention yourself, multiple times?"

"Because I have. It was only just a couple of hours ago I even recognized that I liked. I can't go from 'I like Ashley' to 'Ashley and I making out with no shirts on' in a matter of hours."

"I never said anything about you too making out with no shirts on, or making out, or even kissing in general." He snickers evilly. "You have a dirty mind, Spencer Carlin."

"And the first thing you think about when I say the word 'Mitch' is-"

"How hot he is without a shirt on when he BBQ-ing," Luke replies with no hesitation.

"Who has the dirty mind now?" I pause. "Wait, why does he BBQ without a shirt?"

"It's not important, and you probably don't want to know."

"Knowing you and your dirty mind, I probably don't."

"And now we're back to talking about Ashley." He starts talking in a heavier manner. "Why can't you even consider dating her?"

"Because... I don't know why. Something to do with Elle, and all that, and, and, and..." I think on it. What exactly do Ashley and Elle have in common? The fact that they're gay girls. That's about it. So what could Ashley have to do with Elle and Ohio?

Luke seems to sense my dilemma. "I'll give you a hint. It starts with 'H.'" I roll my eyes. How can he have it figured out if I don't?

So I start thinking about all the words relating to that situation that start with 'H.' For about five minutes, all I can come up with are homophobia and homosexual. And then it hits me. "Hurt. I don't want her to hurt me."

"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner," he says in an unexcited, serious voice. "I respect that, but one day, you'll have to realize that getting hurt is part of life, and you can't prevent it. It will happen."

I sniffle. Tears threaten to fall. Again. "But I don't want it to."

He thinks for a moment, trying to remember what he's going say. He does this a lot, collecting his thoughts before he says something really important so that it'll come out right. "In college, there's this grounds keeper. He's always out in between two classes I have that are about an hour apart. Going back to my dorm would be pointless, I so I would sit around and wait in front of class. That was his shift. He would clean the grounds while I sat, and eventually we got around to talking.

"We formed a pretty good friendship, that man and me. His name is Jenkins. He's kinda old, so he's seen a lot of the world. I got a lot of advice from him.

"So one day, I don't even remember what I was moping about, but Jenkins, he told me something that I've taken to heart and lived ever since. He said to me, 'Luke, I'm about to toss around some wisdom, so listen up. I know you're feeling bad. I know you feel like you're dead, but that's okay. Because I believe that you can't really live until you've died inside.

"'You have to be hurt hard enough to know what it's like to feel true happiness. Once you know what it feels like to be dead, you'll find real life in someone else. You'll find love, and you'll be able to fully understand it because you'll know what it's like to live without it. But there is a catch. Sometimes you die, and you can't come back because you won't let yourself. You're so afraid of dying again that you don't even realize you're already dead. Ain't no point in sitting around being dead, because even if you find yourself alive for only a second before you die again, you were alive for that second, and in the next, you're back where you started. You've got nothing to lose by trying to live again, but everything to lose if you try and stay dead.'" Luke pauses and clears his throat. "That's you, Spencer. You're dead, figuratively speaking, of course. I assume you got that whole thing was a metaphor. So you're dead, and you just wanna stay there. You look at Ashley, and there's that spark of life that makes you alive again. You're already in a nasty place. Having Ashley and then losing her would just put you back in this same place, no better, no worse, just numb. But if you have her, and you keep her, then, well, it could lead to many happy moments. And you'd be alive, Spence. You'd be the girl I've been missing for the past five years."

I choke on my tears, sorting out my emotions, because I know he's right. "It's good to have an old friend to talk to, Luke. Because even though you're closest to your best friends of today, your old friends knew you in your younger days. When yourself, your personality, was at its rawest. Now, years later, it's been deluded, affected by other people. It's when you're a kid that you really have your distinctive personality, and old friends know about that."

"But there's that one person who can turn you back into you," Luke adds with a serious chuckle. "You still wanna do lunch sometime?"

I nod. "Sometime. But for now, I need to focus on Ashley. I need to focus on my feelings for her. I need to figure them out."

"I kinda expected that. If you need anything, give your old friend a ring, eh?"

"What are you, Canadian?"

"My boyfriend is," Luke says. "And speaking of said boyfriend, he's yelling something at me, and I should probably go check it out. That is, if you're okay?"

"Peachy. See ya later, Luke. Love you."

"Love you too."

I spend about a minute searching for the off button on Clay's ridiculously complicated phone before hanging it up. It doesn't occur to me that hanging it up will turn it off, I'm so dazed. Everything that Luke says just starts to sink in.

I know that I'm afraid of starting a relationship with Ashley because of being hurt. Not just by her, but by everyone else. Not having to face homophobia at college was a welcome breath of fresh air after the Ohio incident. But it's also been a lonely existence. The only time I've really felt anything is around Ashley or Aiden or Madison, but mostly around Ashley. Everything I felt with Elle, I feel around her, only about ten thousand times stronger, more intense. My logical brain is telling me to listen to wise old Luke and go for it, because I'll never be happy if I stay single and/or date guys my entire life. But my heart is telling me that it's still too broken to be touched, too fragile to be held again. I don't know what to do. Well, I do know what to do: get Ashley to be my girlfriend. I just don't know how to do it, how to get past all the obstacles in the way. It's not even Elle that's standing in my way any more; it's me. Giving myself up completely, wholly, unconditionally to another person scares me after what it's led to before. I've already given all that to her in a platonic way, so how hard can it be to do it in a romantic way? Okay, hard. But because of that, because of our deep platonic bond, somewhere in me, I think that I can try.

And sometimes all that we can do is try.

**A/N: **Okay, so this chapter, I know was kind of un-action packed, but it needs to be here, for Spencer to get out of her emotional state... er, being "dead"... that she's been in the entire story since the chapter is the chapter you've all been hoping for. Or, at least, I think it's the one you've all been hoping for :)


	12. Beaches and Kisses

**A/N:** Sorry it took so long. It's been a busy week. Hope this is good, I'm a bit shaky on the ending. I don't if I'll be able to do any more this weekend; I'm gonna be busy with volunteering and an essay. But I swear I'll try :)

The next morning, I'm up and ready to do something. I'm sick of being stuck around here in Clay's house, confused and scared of myself. I want to do something.

I mope around the house all morning, bored, because Ashley woke up early and went to buy some groceries with Clay, Chelsea, and Chris. It's a Saturday, and apparently it's their Saturday morning routine. I'm left with a big empty place in my heart when I think of what I would usually be waking up to on Saturday mornings. I miss Friday nights and Saturday mornings in L.A.

I bring the idea of doing something today up to Ashley over lunch after we've all helped put away the groceries. She muses on it for a second or two, and then her face lights up. "What about that lake? The one by all those houses? There was a sign that said 'Public Beach Access.' What about that, Spencer?"

Clay and I both exchange brief glances. That lake is the lake by my parents' house, the house they still live in. If they see me, well... I'm not ready for that yet.

"Think on that for a second," Ashley says. "I gotta pee." She gets up and smiles, dashing off to the bathroom.

"They're not home," Clay tells me. "They went on vacation to Italy just a few days before you came. They won't be back for about another week. You're safe."

Chelsea just sits silently and feeds Chris, who is also, through some miracle, intently watching our conversation. Quietly.

It feels a little weird, knowing that my parents would travel overseas and not even bother to tell me. I mean, I know that I haven't spoken to them in years, and that part of that is my fault, but it's just weird. "And Glen and Elle?"

Clay thinks on this for a moment. "They're here, in Harbor Hills, but they never really go out anywhere. I've never seem them at the lake."

"You're sure that we won't meet any of them down there?" I ask, my voice laced with worry.

"About 90 sure," he says.

Ashley comes back in. "Made a decision?"

"Yeah." I smile at her.

"And?"

"Let's go to the lake." She laughs at me as I stand up, going back up to the bedroom. We find our bathing suits and she begins to change. I'm suddenly uncomfortable in this situation, though we've done it before.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I say.

She stands there in her bra and shrugs at me. I'm trying to force myself to look away, but it's not working. I scamper out of the room, clothes in hand. I try to imagine the look on her face at that moment, but I don't want to imagine her in her bra again, because that would lead to a bad place. Or a good place. I'm not really sure which.

I shake these thoughts out of my head as I pull on a bikini and then a cover up. I walk back into the room after standing outside for about five minutes just so I'm sure that she'll be fully clothed. My patience is rewarded as when I get in there, she's wearing shorts and a tank-top, fiddling around for some shoes.

I take in a deep breath so she knows that I'm in there. She doesn't really acknowledge my presence, probably because she's mumbling to herself about her lost shoes. Which is really adorable. Stop it, Spencer! You can't get involved with her. Just because you both like each other, doesn't mean there should be a relationship. But even as I say that in my head, I realize how ridiculous it sounds.

"Found 'em!" Ashley announces, triumphantly holding up a pair of yellow flip-flops. "Ready?"

"Let me grab some shoes and towels and sunscreen- which I see you forgot to pack," I say, lightly reprimanding her.

She shrugs and smiles at me. "Those things are optional." I shake my head and gather up enough of each of the necessities for both us. We head out to the car where she graciously offers to throw our junk in the back of the car.

"So, you're gonna have to tell me how to get there, 'cause I kinda forgot," she says sheepishly. I smirk at her and contemplate asking her if I can drive, but realize that she'll never relinquish the wheel. She's like that.

"I'll guide you." And I do. We get there with almost no trouble, except for when Ashley gets distracted by a cat chasing a butterfly and misses a turn.

At the small beach, there are only a few people there. It's all little kids with their mommies and daddies, plus two guys about our age. Ashley tries to set up as far away as possible from everyone so that we can just relax; she selects a spot at the very end of the beach where there's nothing but sand and grasses.

The first thing Ashley does is pull off both her top and shorts so that she is only in her bikini. Gulp. She spreads out both the towels and lays down on hers, which is, appropriately, a rainbow Mine is a Disney princess collage. And just in case you were wondering, these are towels we found in Clay's house. I can understand the rainbow towel, because who doesn't like rainbows, but I don't quite get the princesses.

Ashley is ignoring pretty much everything right now, including me. Eyes closed, arms folded behind her head, serene smile on her face. She just looks so relaxed and content, and I can't think of a time I've seen her like this before. Well, maybe on Saturday mornings. But right now, it's two o' clock on a Saturday afternoon. There's no routine, but maybe that's what this trip to Ohio was about. Breaking the routine. Because the routine is safe and comforting, and if you ever really want to accomplish anything, you have to break out of the routine.

"You like swimming?" she asks casually, eyes still closed.

"Well enough, I guess," I answer, forcing down the memories of the warm summer days I used to spend here as a kid. I can't let my family get into my thoughts when they're already so jumbled with thoughts of Elle and Ashley; I'm just not ready for that yet.

She props herself up on her elbows and gives me a sly smile. "Then you better start getting undressed."

"Undressed? What are you- hey!" She lifts me up and rips off my shorts and shirt in about half a second before we both tumble into the peaceful lake, which isn't so peaceful anymore because of our shouts. The families give us funny looks, but we don't care.

I try to leave the water, because it's almost freezing, but Ashley ropes me around the waist and pulls me close to her. "You're not going anywhere," she whispers into my ear, and it comes out a lot more sexual than she intended it to be, and all of a sudden, there shivers running up and down my body. I try to suppress the feelings, but it's hard. And scary.

Ashley seems to sense this, because she loosens her hold on me so it's more of a light hug. "You sure you like swimming?"

"Uh-huh." I find that I can barely talk. I breathe in everything about her, this moment in the lake being far more intimate than any moment we've had yet so far. She senses it, too, I can tell, because she gently rocks back and forth in the water, taking me with her. Then, very quickly, she goes back to her usual playful manner.

"Hey, you wanna play Marco Polo?"

After like four hours hanging around, napping, reading, talking, swimming, Ashley gets the brilliant idea that we should go to the local grocery store and get a picnic, and then come back here. The grocery store is fairly uneventful and after some minor squabbles we decide on turkey sandwiches, some Scooby Snax because Ashley thought they looked cool, grapes, and two cupcakes. With a couple of cans of Coke.

The grocery store took an hour, so by the time we get back it was around seven. Even then, if I remember correctly, the sun won't go down for another two hours. But there is a bit of a glow on the horizon, tinging the bottom bit of the sky a pink-ish color.

As we eat, I learn that I should never give Ashley grapes if I want to be done with food in less than an hour. Because she plays with them. She makes a whole freakin' circus out of them. She juggles them and makes me try and throw them into her mouth. She actually ponders on philosophical topics while looking at them.

"I wonder goes on in dogs' brains," she says as she stares intently at a grape. "I mean, they can't speak, so how do they associate something like, say, 'hungry' to the feeling? Do their brains actually talk to them like ours do?" She looks at me like she expects me to answer. I really have no answer because, oddly, that's an interesting point.

"You think too much," I respond. "We're just gonna have to keep you off these grapes. They're doing funny things to your head."

She laughs and puts the plate down. "We should probably head home." She starts gathering things up and then says, "Ooh! When it gets dark, we can go out in Clay's backyard and look at the stars!" She blushes. "I've never really seen stars before. You can't see them in L.A. I'd like to see them, for once in my life."

I find myself smiling, and I can't exactly help it. "I think that's do-able."

We drive home and find Clay and Chelsea on the couch watching th first "Pirates of the Caribbean." Ashley gleefully states that she loves this movie, and as soon as we stick the plates away and get rid of our trash, we join Clay and Chelsea on the floor.

"Did you two have a fun day?" Chelsea asks.

Ashley nods. "Oh yeah. We did the usual beach thing, and then we went to the store and got ourselves a picnic."

"Sounds fun," Chelsea comments, looking at us in this weird kind of way. I ignore it and go back to the movie.

We sit through an hour and a half of Jack Sparrow's swashbuckling before Ashley tells me that it's dark enough to see the stars.

"Stars?" Clay asks in this tone that implies he doesn't want to pry into our business, but is doing the polite thing and asking us about it anyway.

"You really can't see stars in L.A.," Ashley explains. "So I thought I'd see them here."

I grab a blanket from upstairs as well as our sweatshirts, since it can sometimes get kind of chilly out there.

Twenty minutes later, I've named all the constellations I know and we've made up some names with strange myths behind them for the ones we don't know.

We're sitting up comfortably; Ashley's propped up on her hands and I'm hugging my knees close my chest. I scoot closer to Ashley so that I'm leaning against her.

She notices me brushing up against her and smiles warmly. "Cold?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

She reaches out and puts her hand on my cheek, directing my attention away from the sky and onto her. I look right into her eyes, and can see that she's going to kiss me. And now there's nothing stopping me- no Clay, no Luke, no phone calls, no people. The only thing stopping me is me and my fears.

She moves closer, leans in.

I try to pull away, but her hand stays on my cheek. I feel it there, warm and safe, spreading an intoxicating sensation throughout my body. I hold onto the feeling for a second longer, closing my eyes and letting the tears fall carefully. "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm scared." Scared of what could happen, what has happened.

But she refuses to give up. "Don't be. Don't even think. Just... let go." And I'm trembling under her touch, but in a good way. She moves in and lightly presses her lips to mine, causing me to remember what I've been missing. But she also brings something new, a feeling from the pit of my stomach sending butterflies throughout my entire body as I feel like I'm falling deeper and deeper under her beautiful spell.

And in that short, brief moment, I'm alive again.


	13. Friends and Enemies

**A/N:** I know, I know. You all probably hate me, and probably don't even care about this anymore. I'm sorry about the lack of updates. I'd like to say I was busy, but I wasn't. I just had a serious writer's block on this story, and finally managed to make something out of it. I should be back to regular updates now. If you're still reading, please keep reviewing!

I barely feel anything as she pulls away from me, still touching my cheek. I let my eyes stay closed, lingering in the moment we've just had. I can tell she takes my silence for rejection, because she takes her hand away and is probably folding it in her lap, fiddling with her fingers.

"Spencer, I'm sorry, I just, I, well, I've wanted to do that for a _really_ long time," she confesses breathlessly. "Actually, pretty much ever since I met you. And I know that you can't actually fall in love with someone at first sight, but you were so damn cute that I wanted you right then and there. The more time I spent with you, the more I realized that I didn't want you. I _needed_ you. I still do. And it's that kind of deep need for another person that can turn into love, and I'm ready to find out if that can happen to us. But if you're not ready, I'll wait until you are. And if you're never ready, then I won't even try. But know that I'll always be here for you as a friend, girlfriend, friend with benefits, whatever. I'm here."

"I know. I wouldn't have it any other way," I sniffle. I open my eyes only to find myself staring directly into hers. And in that moment, for a brief second before my eyes cloud over with tears, I see the innocence I've been missing reflected in her eyes, her soft smile, her crinkled nose. And then I fall. I fall into her lap, her hands instantly going to my hair, running through it.

"I know you're scared, believe me, I know the feeling," she says comfortingly. "It's always scary to go into a new relationship, and after the hell you've been through, I'm sure it's even scarier. And I know this will be hard for you to believe, but I think that the best way to get over Elle is to replace all those bad memories with good ones. I was kinda hoping that you'd be doing that with me, but if it's not me you want, then I'm cool with you picking someone else, too. Though it would be kick ass if you did pick me." I smile and lift my head up.

"Ashley." I take a deep breath, letting the confused emotions pour through me. "You're right; I don't want to believe it, but I need someone new to get me over Elle. And you are the best person for the job."

"Really?" The smile on her face, the look in her eyes all just make my heart melt and see everything about her in picture perfect detail.

I nod. She leans in and gives me a huge hug; a sweet hug that just makes my entire body fill up with warmth as she rests her head on my shoulder. Upon leaning away, she asks, "Do you really wanna give us a shot?"

"Yeah. I think I do." I pause for a moment and reflect on how much I've learned, how much I've matured. "No. I know I do."

The next morning I wake up feeling like heaven fell last night and landed on this state, this town, this house, this bed. I feel like this because I know that I'm waking up in Ashley's arms, her chin resting on my head. I'm waking up knowing that we're girlfriends. It's a feeling that I've tried to push out of my system for so long that I'd forgotten how much I missed it. The feeling is different; we're waking up in the same position that we've done so many times before, but it's different now. We're more than we were before, our bond is deeper, and that makes it all the more special.

I can tell that Ashley's awake because I feel her kiss me on the top of the head. She doesn't say anything for a moment, enjoying the quiet morning air surrounding us. The sunlight flows through the window blinds, lightly dancing on her sheets. Our sheets.

"So what do you wanna do today?" she mumbles, still tired obviously.

"I don't really wanna move," I reply, scooting in closer to her.

"Good." She sort of mumbles something a little bit more and rests her head back on top of mine, falling asleep. I have no idea why she's so tired, but if I had to guess, I'd say it was because of the fact that she practically hasn't slept since we got here. I know this because I hear in the middle of the night, pacing, going to the bathroom, turning the pages of a book. Maybe she's been stressed. Maybe last night at the lake helped to get rid of her stress. And oddly, it took away a little of mine, too. I don't know. All I know is that it's the most wonderful feeling, to be here with her. Maybe this is what Luke meant when he said I'd get back to being me again.

"Hey, Ashley?" I begin cautiously.

"Mhmmmm."

"Do you wanna see if Luke and Mitch are free and have lunch with them?" I ask.

"Why?" She's busy trying to fall back asleep.

I sigh and hit her lightly on the head. This wakes her up a little. "Because I miss my oldest friend."

She rolled over and looked at me. I put on my best puppy dog eyes, and she made a face at me. "That's cruel. It's evil. It could even be considered inhumane, those eyes of yours. But since I'm so weak, I'll have to give in and tell you that I approve of the lunch date." She looks at me seriously. "But only if you agree to be my date."

"Deal." I give her a quick kiss before jumping up and heading for my suitcase.

And suddenly I realize what I've done. I'm in a romantic relationship with a girl, the exact same thing that broke me five years ago. I hide my hurt face, sneaking a quick glance at Ashley. She's so happy, lying in that bed with a huge smile. It's the biggest smile I've seen in a long time. I don't want to break that because what we have is special and meant to be; I know that. But there's a big difference between knowing something and accepting it.

I feel a pair of arms wrap themselves loosely around my waist. "Hey," she whispers into my ear. "Don't think too hard, okay? Just let it be."

I let the warmth wash over my body and I feel loved and protected, but not accepting. I suppose that will come in time, and I just have to go with it for now. It's not like I don't accept Ashley; I can't accept myself, fully, completely.

"Let's call up the terrible twosome, shall we?" I manage tiredly as I wiggle out of her arms so that I'm facing her. She offers a soft look and a kiss on my cheek.

"Um, Spence?" She sounds timid, a little scared even.

"Yeah?"

"How public do you want to be? About us, I mean." The look she has on her face is so cute that I can barely stand it.

But though her adorableness is distracting, she brings up a valid point. What do I want to with us? I know that I don't want to walk around with a huge gay pride flag and shouting through a mega-phone that Ashley and I are together, but I'm not sure I want to hide. I think of everything I did with Elle, and how much we missed out on.

_We'd been dating for about three months; it was winter and the snow, as usual, had left a thick coating on the ground. I remember it being a Thursday afternoon, but that could be wrong. We were walking home from school by ourselves and decided to take a detour through the park in the middle of town._

"_Wanna go to the basketball game tonight?" Elle asked, standing a casual distance away from me. We never acted "together" in public for fear of it reaching our moms, our parents, our families, our town._

_I shrugged. "Why not? There's not much better to do in this town."_

_Elle looked at me with twinkling eyes. "Oh, I can think of a lot of things I would enjoy more than a basketball game."_

_I shoved her lightly while laughing. And blushing. "C'mon; you know it's hard enough to find, well, space, to begin with. No way we'll get it during a basketball game. Mom always stays home, feigning sickness because she hates them so much. Even though Glen plays in them."_

_Elle gave me a contemplative look. "Then let's just say we're going to the game. We'll head to the cemetery, under our tree."_

"_Elle," I whined happily. "You know I'm scared of the cemetery at night." And for good reason, too. When I was six, I saw ghost in it on Halloween. Of course, immediately afterwards, Glen said it was just him and his friends, but being six, I didn't believe him._

"_That's okay," she laughed. "I'll keep you safe." She put her arm around my shoulders, probably not realizing what she was doing. I didn't mind or even tell her to take it off. I put my head into her arm as I laughed. We were okay._

_Until we saw Reverend Phelps walking by. "Good afternoon, ladies," he said stiffly._

_Elle instantly dropped her arm and looked at the ground. "Hello, Reverend."_

"_Enjoying the cold air, I see?" He gave us quizzical looks as we tried not to appear guilty._

_  
"Snow is, you know, fun," I said lamely. "Snowmen and such."_

_Reverend Phelps chuckled, but not in a nice way. In a hurtful, mean way. "Ah, youth. Have fun now. Oh, and girls?" He paused, eying us suspiciously. "Stay out of trouble."_

"_Yes, sir, Reverend," Elle muttered._

"_Good, um, day," I added to his retreating back. Angered, scared, and confused all at once, I turned to Elle._

"_Why is it so hard?" I asked, tearing up._

"_What?" But she already knew._

"_I just wanna be able to walk down the street here and hold your hand like everyone else. Sneak a kiss whenever you're being really adorable. Get into an incredibly romantic snowball fight. Is that too much to ask?"_

_She shrugged. "It shouldn't be. But for some odd reason, it is."_

"I didn't really do any of this with Elle," I tell her as I pull a shirt out of my closet. By the look on her face, she takes this as me not wanting to be public at all. I step over to her, lightly putting my hand on her shoulder. "But I'm ready to do it with someone I really care about. Someone like you."

She gives me a funny look. "Someone _like_ me?"

I roll my eyes and pull her closer. "I mean you, doofus." And in another second, we're kissing again, only this time with some tongue involved.

Ashley pulls away, smirking like a little devil. A really cute little devil. "I still have to get dressed, you know. There's boys to be seen!"

We meet up with Luke and Mitch at a little cafe for lunch. And we come in holding hands.

Luke does nothing short of squealing as we walk in, while Mitch sends out a sarcastic comment. "Guess somebody finally decided to join the gay pride float."

"Don't insult her like that!" Ashley jokes back. "She's emotionally fragile." I look at her with an adoring gaze; she has no idea how true that is. Every second or so, I'm combing the place for anyone I know from my childhood; anyone who might recognize me and tell my mom. Oddly, though the thing I'm afraid of them seeing is me holding Ashley's hand, it's also the only thing giving me comfort right now.

We sit down at a table nestled in a tiny corner; the waitress probably put us here since she disapproved of our relationships, as I caught her shooting disdainful glances in our direction as she walked away. Ashley noticed my slightly tousled attitude and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek to make up for it.

"So what's good here?" she asks, scanning the menu without the confused look I'd expect from an LA girl ordering in a small-town Ohio country restaurant.

"The food," Mitch said sarcastically.

"Lovely. Luke, what d'you like?" She doesn't even bother to acknowledge the less-than-smug expression on Mitch's face.

Luke shrugs. "It's all pretty good, depending on what you're into."

"What if I said I was in the mood for something fattening? What would you recommend, and Mitch, if you say anything to that, I'll kick your ass," Ashley adds as a threat to him. It's a well-deserved threat, considering how Mitch's mouth is already open.

And the rest of the meal proceeds like this; nothing notable really happening. Ashley and I say good-bye to the boys, and I'm feeling a bit better about myself and this relationship. No one recognized me and no one gave us exceptionally rude comments. We laugh and joke and hold hands all the way to the car when my good mood is shattered.

"Spencer? Is that you?"Reverend Phelps somehow manages to spot me from all the way across the lot, and I know that I'm not getting away. Even though I want to so much, because all I can focus on is that last meeting with Elle and him.

"Yeah, it's me," I reply lamely, and Ashley automatically wraps her arm protectively around my waist. "Hey, Reverend Phelps."

He approaches us with a big, hopeful smile on his face. I assume that this is because the last anyone heard of me, I was sent to a therapy place that specialized in ridding people of their "unclean" desires. Though I lived with Clay my senior year, my parents were still legally responsible for me. They were allowed to send me to that therapy that summer. But I never showed up. I ran all the way to LA, where I stayed with my cousin for a while until they opened the dorms to us.

"So, how have you been doing since we last met?" He's the one who saw me off; he so wants me to tell him that Ashley is just my friend, but I can see him growing more and more doubtful by the second.

"Well, actually. A lot better since I left," I tell him conversationally.

"So that program worked, then?" His voice raises a little.

I shake my head. "I never went."

His friendly disposition suddenly turns stormy. "Then you are still the Devil. You have given into temptation once again with this... this whore." He shakes his head. "I thought you were stronger than that."

"She is," Ashley says bravely, stepping closer to him. "She's not afraid to be who she is, no matter what kind of stupid trouble it gets her in to, which I can't say for about half of the bigots you preach to. And I am so not a whore!"

Reverend Phelps gives us the evil eye. "I've tried to reform you, Miss Carlin. But it's clear to me that you were meant to rot in Hell; to be a lesson for us all." I know I try not to care about what people tell me, but it's a hard thing to do when someone tells you your entire existence is to serve as an example of how to rot in Hell. I feel the tears coming down my cheeks; the all-too-familiar coldness sweeping through my body.

Ashley gently hugs me, her one hand behind my head, the other rubbing my back slowly. "Don't worry about him. Don't worry about this town. Just worry about you."

I take in a deep breath and feel everything I felt five years ago in a vivid detail I haven't experienced since it actually happened. "There's just... everyone hates me, us, Luke, Mitch, etc. I don't want to have people spit in my face anymore, have them walk on top of me, have them hate me for no reason." I pause for a deep, shaky breath. "Ashley... Ashley, I'm scared."

"Don't be."


	14. Stories and Dreams

**A/N:** This is kind of a filler chapter; not to much going on. But it sets it up for the next chapter, which is definitely full of action. Drama-type action, that is. Oh, and bold is a dream, but I'm sure you'll all figure that out when you get there.

A few days have passed since that last meeting with Reverend Phelps, but Ashley hasn't let that discourage her. We've mostly been hanging around the house and going out to the park. So far, I don't think anyone other than Reverend Phelps has recognized me. He hasn't told anyone, I think, because we haven't been bothered. I've been wondering, though, sitting on pins and needles waiting for the day when he does decide to tell everyone. Ashley, as usual, advises me against this.

"Spence, you're just going to have to get used to it," she explains one lazy afternoon when we're out back in Clay's yard, lying in the hammock together. "All your life, people are going to be like that to you. God knows I've had so many things thrown at me because of who I date. It shouldn't be an issue, but it is. And one day, Reverend Phelps is going to tell the town. And on that day, you're going to face them. But until that day, you don't have to worry."

I nod into her shoulder, little tears dripping down from my eyes. Because the last few days, I've been going over and over my memories. Over and over every last one of them until I've analyzed them to death and can't even think about them anymore. Maybe that's why we've been spending so much time in this hammock together lately; so I can think. I know that Ashley's waiting, just like me, on pins and needles to know what's on my mind, but telling her still feels just a little out of reach, like a pendulum swinging for hours and hours, taking ages to get to the pins, always just a little too far away. Until that one moment when it finally gets there, and knocks the pin down, and it's all different, but better somehow.

_I saw Elle once after we broke up. It was a couple of days before I was set to leave for the therapist's. I hadn't really been out all year, and knew little of Elle's life. I'd known she was dating Glen for a while, but other than that, no news of her really reached me. The only people I even talked to anymore were Luke and James, but they didn't talk to anyone either._

_I had decided to find myself a good book to read to read before heading out. Even then I'd made arrangements with my cousin about staying with him instead of going to the therapy home. I knew that going there would be a big mistake and that going to LA would be a huge risk, but it was a risk I was willing to take._

_The bookstore in Harbor Hills was simply a locally owned one that received many of the regular books that chain stores got, but also some less known ones as well. I hadn't expected to find her there on that rare rainy day, but there she was, browsing the fiction section._

_I tried to get away without her noticing me, but I tripped over a stack of books in the corner and she turned around to see me._

_In that brief second, I felt something that reached deep inside of me, to a place I'd never accessed before; never even knew I had. It wasn't a good place._

"_Spencer..." Her voice dripped with something a little less than disdain, a little more than sadness. "I heard you were going to that therapy place." She smiled lightly. "That's good. Maybe someday you'll be lucky like me; you'll find someone like Glen to lo-"_

"_Don't," I hissed, shocking both of us. "You don't love Glen. It's impossible."_

_Elle smiled at me. "Of course I love your brother. He's the best boy I've ever dated, met, loved."_

"_But see that's the problem," I whispered quietly, suddenly not feeling like riffling through the shelves for a good read. "You aren't looking for a boy."_

_She changed her demeanor immediately. "I am. I've found him. And if you haven't gotten it through your thick skull that that's the way it should be, then maybe you should stay away from me."_

"_I think I will." And I ran out of that store, crying harder than I'd ever cried, even harder than when she'd outed me. I ran all the way to the cemetery, and sat beneath our tree, and I cried._

I try not to think of that scene as we're lying around on that lazy afternoon. It crosses my mind because Ashley is reading something; I'm not quite sure what, but it's something, and that's enough for me right now. In every little thing, I find some way to relate it back to my pain. I know that's not healthy, and I shouldn't do that, but I just can't help it. Reverend Phelps brought the world back into focus. When we kissed, Ashley and I, it put me in a kind of suspended reality, where it was just us, and no one could touch it or ruin it or even find it. And then Reverend Phelps pulled me out of there like a mother pulling child passing unknowingly in front of an oncoming car.

The last thing I can think of as I drift off to sleep in her arms with the sun warm on my back is how everyone will react when they find out I'm back. When they find out I'm back and with a girlfriend.

**I'm running through a huge maze of hedges in a dark night. The rain comes down in torrents, splashing me as I go. I don't know where or why I'm running, but the one thing my brain tells me is that I cannot stop, no matter how much it hurts.**

**Frantically, I turn the corner and bump into something. For a moment I think it's another hedge, but I'm wrong. It's Elle, standing over me with a baseball in her hand, one that resembles the ones they throw at the dunk tank at the barbecue. It's raining, pouring even, but she's completely dry. The rain touches her skin, her face, her hair, her clothes, but it doesn't affect her.**

"**Filthy lesbian," she spits out, throwing the baseball at my face.**

**I duck, but when I stand up, I'm somewhere different. I'm in the Blockbuster in LA with Aiden.**

"**Spencer!" he says eagerly. "Check this out!" He proceeds to jump into the air and stick his fingers onto the ceiling, like Spiderman. "Pretty cool, huh?" He lands perfectly back on the desk in a crouching position. "I'm trying out for the circus!" **

**Mitch and Luke appear out of the racks with stacks and stacks of DVDs in their arms. "These are so great!" Luke exclaims. He shows me one of them, and it's _Brokeback Mountain_. He turns to Mitch.**

"**Isn't it nice to just rent these things without anyone caring who we are?" Mitch laughs. "I feel sorry for those losers who are still trying to hide it. What wimps."**

"**Yeah, they're such losers," Aiden agrees in a slightly flirtatious manner.**

"**As are you," Mitch tells him, giving Aiden's hand a squeeze.**

"**Here, look at it, Spencer," Luke implores, shoving the DVD case into my hands.**

**I reluctantly sigh and open the blasted thing. I see the DVD itself, with Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger and the beautiful mountain scenery, and then there's a flash of light.**

**And I'm there, on top of that mountain. Ashley is there, too, dressed in a cowboy hat, red plaid shirt, jeans, and some black boots. She's smiling goofily and holding some firewood in her arms while stumbles towards me.**

"**Hey. How's the farm going?"**

**I look at her cluelessly until something inside of me registers that I do indeed have a farm. And a husband. Well, I had a husband. "It's doing well." I feel nervous and sweaty as I put my hands in my pockets timidly. **

**Ashley laughs at me. "'Course it is. Your farm's always good. How's your man?"**

"**Gone," I reply sharply.**

**She becomes sober. "I'm sorry about that, Spencer, I really am. But... can there be an 'us' now? With him out of the picture?"**

**I give her a disgusted look and my mind flashes back to the body of someone in a creek. I see myself at twelve years old, with my father, looking at that body. The body of Elle. "No. I... Ashley, I can't."**

"**Oh." She turns her back to me, losing her composure. I can hear the soft sobs, almost feel the tears. She takes off her hat.**

**I'm about to reach out to her, when a black-clad, cowboy version of Glen comes in front of her with a knife. I want to cry out to her, to help her, but it's too late. He stabs her in the stomach, and she screams, cracking the peace of the mountain tops, the shrill scream echoing throughout the world.**

**Ashley falls over on her side and Glen stares at me, holding the knife triumphantly above his head as the blood dripped slowly off of it. "You can't belong here."**

**And again I'm somewhere else, this time in the glittering ballroom of an 18th mansion. I'm wearing a long gown that sweeps up against the floor. I'm in the center of the dance floor, people spinning happily around me while I laughed and joked with them all.**

**My mother, also dressed in fine garb, rushed over to me excitedly. "Oh, Spencer, there's a fine young man over there who wishes to dance with you. He's quite charming; he owns a mansion just down the road, as well as some land in the colonies. Oh, Spencer! You simply must meet him."**

**As nice as the man sounds, I decline. "Mum, how many times must I tell you? I'm simply not interested in those upper class dolts."**

**My mother sighs at me. "Honestly, Spencer, why couldn't you have been more like Elle? She's a year your junior and already married." I don't respond. She sighs again. "Well, I suppose I must continue looking. There is someone out there for you somewhere." As soon as I see her retreating back disappear into the crowd, I instinctively turn my head to one of the large windows that show the patio and see her out there.**

**Ashley has changed from cowboy clothes and is now in a lower class set of male clothes. She's clearly waiting for me out on the veranda, and I feel no reason to discourage this meeting.**

**But again, I'm too late. Glen, this time dressed in a wealthy man's clothing, stabs her again. And she screams again. And she falls again. And she bleeds again.**

**He flashes into the ballroom, casually wiping off the knife. "You don't belong here either," he laments.**

**I'm crying now, tears rolling all over my face. "Why not?"**

"**You don't fit," he says with a shrug. "There's no love story for you."**

"**Yes there is!" I scream at him. Around us the people stop dancing the world is frozen save for the two of us. "There's Ashley!"**

"**Ashley?" Glen laughs. "There is no Ashley. There is no love. Look around you." He gestures to the ballroom and starts pointing at people. "Tall man and short woman. Man with a bowler and woman with a mole. Man from Italy and woman from England. Man from the back and woman from his house. See the pattern? Man and woman. That's what it is Spencer. You can't exist. Not here." And he takes the knife and plunges it into my heart.**

I wake up from the dream, shaking like a leaf in the wind. The world isn't much different from how I left it; the sun is setting and the purple hues play across the sky with a lasting glow. Ashley sleeps next to me, her arms loosely holding me and her book lying open on top of her chest. I don't want to leave this moment, because it feels so perfect.

But that dream. Nothing feels perfect anymore. Not as perfect as it once was.


	15. Meetings and Leavings

**A/N:** Sorry about the lateness. I had it finished last night, but this site wouldn't let me log on for some reason... The next chapter will probably be up sometime this weekend.

Three weeks. It's been three weeks since that dream, and I still haven't mustered up the courage to tell her about it yet. All I said was that it had been a nightmare. A really terrible nightmare, but I left it at that. She sensed it went deeper, but also didn't push me. Another great thing about her. She lets me deal with things when I'm ready, not the moment they happen.

But sometimes I don't think I'll ever be ready. I feel like I've regressed in these last three weeks, that being with Ashley has reminded me of the pain I knew back in those days, the band-aids she's putting on being ripped off by ghosts of the past.

I wake up today, once again surrounded by Ashley. Though we've been doing this for weeks now, it's a comforting feeling to have. Today, we're going out. Not on a date or anything, because I still don't feel like I'm ready for that yet. Not in public. I don't know why, but I've allowed myself to get over the fear of acting at least a little couple-like in public, though I can't bring myself to let her take me on a date. Today we're going to Harbor Hills' only place of interest: an old house that everyone thinks is haunted. It's an old mansion, one of the most well preserved in Ohio. The descendants of the original owners have turned it into a museum, detailing its fascinating and somewhat colorful history. Ashley's been wanting to see it for awhile, and we finally have a nice day to do it.

After a quick breakfast with Clay, Chelsea, and Chris, we move out into Ashley's car, laughing about something or other. I can't really remember what Clay had said that had caused this, but the laughter induces something inside of me that I haven't really been familiar with since the dream. Happiness.

We hop in her car. "So this haunted house thing, it's a little outside of town, right?" Ashley asks, biting her lip in concentration as she pulls out of the driveway.

"Yep."

"I'm gonna need some directions," she tells me matter-of-factly.

I chuckle. "Why don't you just let me drive?"

She gasps in shock. "And relinquish control of my baby? Fat chance." She leans over and smiles at me, this huge smile that I've only seen on her a couple of times before. I've been seeing it a lot lately.

Ashley is very good at following directions; she never got lost once on the entire trip, despite my vague descriptions.

"Alrighty, then," she jokes as we get out. "Where's this house?"

I shrug. "It's kind of a hidden wonder. You have to go all the way back through this path- it's about half a mile through the forest, but the forest itself is absolutely breath-taking."

"If this was a cheesy romantic movie, I'd tell you that nothing could ever be as breath-taking as you." I'm about to give her a kiss, and then she adds, "But since it's, not you'll have to settle for some hand holding."

"I'm debating whether or not to slap you right now," I tell her. "But since you're holding my hand, I'll let it slide."

"You're so easy," she laughs. And then she stops. I almost feel like her heart stops with her laughter, taking its last breath as the happiness leaves her face.

I turn in the direction she's looking, down the path. It's a boy and a girl, holding hands. They're around our age. The boy has tousled and messy blonde hair, the girl's is bouncy, red, and curly. Ashley has never met him before, but I can tell she recognizes him instantly. He has the same cheekbones as me, but I don't think that's what clicks in her head. It's that picture on the desk in the dorm of us when we were kids. My brother hasn't aged a day since that photo was taken.

It's awkward moment for the four of us. Ashley's face shows the look she gets when she's calculating things. She's probably figured out by now that the girl is Elle. My Elle. The Elle.

"Look who it is," Glen says, breaking the silence. "My little dyke of a sister."

I lean back closer to Ashley, my eyes stinging with tears. Today was supposed to be a fun day; a good day. Not _that_ day. The day I've known would come, but tried to run from.

Ashley sizes Glen up with glaring eyes. "Look who it is," she mimics. "My girlfriend's ass of a brother."

Glen smirks at her evilly. "Well, well. Someone hasn't learned her lesson yet. Guess this time you didn't try to oh, I don't know, _rape_ her?"

That hurts more than I could have ever imagined. To hear my own brother accuse me of raping someone who I had loved, who had loved me back, takes me to a new low. And at this point, I say the hell with being strong. Ashley can be my shoulder to lean on, because now, I need that shoulder. I need that shoulder to cry into.

As I put my head there, I can feel her entire shoulder tense up, her body responding to my brother's comments. "She did not rape Elle," Ashley says in a cold, calm voice. "Whatever she's been telling you is a lie, because Spencer and Elle, they were in love. They were, I know. Because Spencer's told me and when she talks about you, Elle, there's nothing in her eyes but hurt and pain. The kind of hurt and pain that can only be caused by those you loved, who loved you back." I'm truly touched by what she says; how she defends me, no questions asked, just the straight up facts.

And Glen falters, I can tell, because he doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds. "Your girlfriend over there never loved my wife." I notice how he calls me Ashley's girlfriend, not his sister. It's like he doesn't want to have any affiliation with me.

"Why don't you let your wife speak for herself?" Ashley snaps at him.

"Why don't you let your girlfriend speak for herself?" Glen counters. I can almost feel the heat between them, the tension becoming palpable.

"Spencer?" she whispers in my ear, her breath warming my cheek. She's giving me an option to stand up or back down, and I honestly can't tell you what makes me answer "yes."

"What, Glen?" I say. I don't look all that intimidating, with my ruffled hair and tear-stained face, Ashley's arm slung protectively around my waist. But I think the fact that I even have the courage to say anything shocks us all. Glen makes no movement to do anything; for once he has no snippy retort. Elle stares at the ground, her face unreadable. And Ashley... Ashley sneaks a glance at me, a smile full of nothing but love and pride. I almost melt under that smile. But I don't. "What else can you possibly say to me?"

Glen still formulates no response; it's Elle's turn to say something. It's Elle's turn to break not only my heart, but my body. "I never loved you. You were always just that little whore who wanted me."

They say that things fall apart and they leave it at that. But they're wrong. Things fall apart, all right, but when they fall apart, they fall apart little by little until there's that one thing that cracks it all so it crumbles. The last nail in the coffin. And that was what Elle just delivered.

This appears to be even a low point for Glen and Ashley. They're both rendered speechless and I can't even process this beyond the fact that for the first time in my life, I'm seriously contemplating running away. Not suicide, but just running. Leaving it all. Even Clay and Chelsea and Chris. Even Ashley. Because I can't deal with going back to anything at all. But I can't run, because Ashley's holding my hand. She's keeping me grounded. But she's barely keeping herself grounded.

"I have nothing else to say to you," Ashley tells them. She then laughs in that sarcastic way she has. "Oh, wait. I do. I have a question for you, actually. How is it that you can hate Spencer? Just because she loves another girl?" She smirks smugly at them.

They're both uncomfortable for a moment, and she squeezes my hand tightly. For that brief second, it feels like we've won. We've got them stopped, confused. And I let myself think that for a second.

"How is it I can do that?" Glen says with an almost insane laugh. "Because she's my damn sister, that's why. And it's sick, disgusting. Why do you think women need a man to make a baby? Because that's the natural order of things. Because women depend on men; they need men, and men..." He snorts in an awful way. "We all know why men need women."

"You self-satisfied bastard!" Ashley exclaims. She takes steps forward; intercepts him. "You think of saying something like that again, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Glen taunts, his face aglow with sarcasm, anger, hunger. "What?"

Ashley is visibly shaking now. "You don't even want to find out." From the words, from that emotion, both Elle and I understand that we don't want to find out. I'm so busy darting my eyes between the tenseness on Elle's face and the pure loathing on Ashley's that I miss Glen. I miss him lunging.

I miss him smacking Ashley full in the face.

None of us react for a moment, the stunned crack slitting the silence like a knife. Ashley recovers first, going at Glen, but I stop her. I don't know why I stop her, but it feels like the right thing to do. I hold her arms back, and in a few seconds she calms down, her breathing steadies.

Glen laughs at her. "Need your little girlfriend to protect you?" He chuckles again.

Elle pats his arm in this devilish way. "Hey, I'm sorry about that. He usually doesn't hit girls."

"But wait." He turns to Elle, an amused, sarcastic look on his face. "Lesbians aren't really girls, are they?"

Ashley can't find anything to say to him. So she just takes my hand, stalks off angrily, and flips him the bird. We head back to the car, our walk choppy. Hers angry, mine scared.

We sit in the car silently for a moment. The only sound is the outside world. And me crying. My face in my hands, I can't even look at her. The world that I've worked so long and hard to avoid has finally caught up with me. My dad used to tell me that life was like walls.

"_Walls?" I giggled in my six-year-old voice. "How can life be like walls?"_

"_Like this," he said, a smirk on his face. He took some of our LEGO bricks out and began building something. "What's a famous wall, Spencer?"_

_I shrugged and thought hard about what we'd learned in school. "Oh!" I exclaimed. "The Great Wall of China!"_

_He chuckled. "Okay, sure. The Great Wall of China. It was built by a Chinese emperor, but I can't remember which one for the life of me. Do you know why they built it?"_

_I shook my head gleefully. "Tell me, tell me!"_

"_Alright," he laughed. "They built to keep out the bad guys from the north. And it worked, too. For hundreds of years, it kept the bad guys out. But one day, they broke it down."_

"_What does this have to do with life?" I asked, confused._

"_Because you can build up as many walls as you want, Spencer," he told me seriously. "But one day, someone's going to climb over them. You can't hide forever." He put the last brick on his very tiny LEGO wall._

At the time, I didn't really understand what he meant. But now I do. Now his meaning comes into stark focus, like someone had just adjusted the lens of a blurry camera. I sit there, my head buried in my hands, my tears sliding over my arms, my pants, Ashley's car seat. No words can describe how deeply I feel. Nothing can convey how much I want to crawl under ground and hide. No words can say how much I need Ashley right now. No words can explain why I can't let myself touch her.

She puts her hand on my shoulder, lightly, as if she's testing the waters. And I withdraw. I pull my head up and buckle myself in. Ashley knows what this means; she puts her baby into gear and starts to drive.

We go all the way home in silence, and I rush all the way up to our room in silence. I throw myself on the bed and cry myself into a state of exhaustion. And once I'm done crying, everything is silent.

I don't participate much in conversation at dinner that night. Clay and Chelsea act like all is normal, but I can tell that Ashley's told them. If not all the details, they at least know we met them today. Ashley tries to act normal, but she's failing miserable. I'm not even trying.

Little Chris babbles on about dinosaurs and seems oblivious to the obvious tension of his family.  
"They're really cool!" he exclaims, reminding me of my own childhood enthusiasm towards fantasy stories. "The big ones- the T-Rex ones, yeah! They got these tiny little arms and HUGE heads! They're enormous!"

Ashley smiles at him as she plays with her pasta. "That's really cool, kiddo. Did you learn anything about the big fish?"

Chris scrunches up his nose. "Big fish?"

"Mhmm," Ashley tells him seriously. "There were these ginormous fish in the water the same time the dinosaurs were on land."

Chris shakes his head. "But I don't like fish."

She smiles at him again. "Trust me; you'll like these fish. They were like swimming dinosaurs. Only cooler."

"Nothing's cooler than dinosaurs!"

"Wanna bet?"

Chris ponders this for a second. "Do I have to give you money?"

Ashley chuckles at him. "Nah, squirt. Just the satisfaction of knowing that I was right."

He cocks his head to one side and looks at her for a second. "Okay! Deal." He then turns to his father. My brother. "Daddy, can we get some fish books from the library?"

"Sure thing, buddy," he says.

"I could take him," Ashley volunteers.

I feel as though I am watching this conversation as it takes place on a television; I'm not there, but I can see all the things going on. I feel detached from the world, wanting more than anything to be held by Ashley and curl up alone on my bed at the same time. A certain numbness washes over me; a certain state of discontent that can so easily be fixed by avoiding the state all together. Avoiding the state of being alive.

Luke's advice from a few weeks ago passes through my head in a fleeting flash. I hear his words spoken, but they mean nothing to me. If I'm "dead," how can I be hurt more? Shouldn't I be somewhere in between depression and bliss? A kind of limbo, almost content boredom? That state of comforting lack of feeling could easily last me the rest of my life. It easily could do that.

"Auntie Spencer, you're not supposed to play with your food." I don't even know why that statement affects me so profoundly. Maybe because I was so buried in myself that I didn't even notice what I was doing with my food. But that's enough; to hear a young boy's voice so confused and concerned over something so innocent.

"I just... I have to go." I rush out of the room, back into mine and Ashley's shared space. As I leave, I hear Chris saying, "Mommy, what's wrong with Auntie Spencer?" And if I still believed I had a heart, that would have broken it.

Around 10:00, Ashley comes in quietly. The doors creaks and light spills over. "Spencer?"

I pretend to be asleep, to not hear her.

A pause.

"Alright. Well, if you need me, I'll be on the couch in the living room." She leaves. The door closes gently. The light goes out.

Days pass. Days of me pulling away, leaving Ashley to play with Chris. I sit and I watch them. But once again, I'm not really there. I'm somewhere else, where reality means nothing and everything is a mass of swirling, meaningless colors. It's where I am, and while it would be happier if I let myself live, it's just easier to be here. Because no one can hurt me here.

And then one day, it all goes to hell.

It's night and Ashley comes into our room. As usual, I don't acknowledge her. But from the corner of my eye and my previous knowledge of her, I can tell she biting her lip and fiddling with her thumbs.

"Spencer." She comes over to me and runs her fingers through my hair. But I turn away. "See, this is what I wanted to talk about. You're pulling away, Spence."

I shake my head. "No. I'm still... yours."

She smiles sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. "Maybe in your head. But not in mine. You're turning into Elle. Right before she outed you. I don't want that to happen to us."

I laugh at her from my incredulity. "You can't seriously be comparing me to Elle. You know what she's done to me!" I'm close to tears myself now. "You've seen what she's done to me. How can you even think that?"

She takes a deep shaky breath. "Yeah, Spencer, I know what she's done. But I also know what you're going through is similar to what she went through after that speech."

I gape at her. I never told her that story. "How'd you know?" I croak, a crack in my voice.

"Clay told me while you were caged in here one of these past few days." She shrugs like it's no big deal. But it's a _very _big deal to me, because I what to tell her things when I'm ready, not when Clay's ready. "I've been your safety net; your place to run to when it all falls apart. I haven't pushed you, because I thought you would tell me when you were ready. And that's a good plan." Pause. "For a while."

I look at her and for the first time in days I feel something. And it's not good. "What?" I choke out.

She stands up and starts pacing. "When I was totally wrecked in freshmen year, with the sex and the booze, you were my safety net. I would come home, wasted, and you would hold my hair behind my head while I threw up and then sing me to sleep. It was just something simple, having you do that for me even though you hated that lifestyle. Seeing your concerned face waiting there for me with your arms wide open. I needed you. Every night, before I would down my first one, I'd know that you were home waiting. I could drink more easily knowing that. And then one day, you weren't. You weren't there." I remember that night; the night that he took me out for the weekend. One of my pretend boyfriends took me for a spontaneous weekend trip that I really didn't want to go on, but ended up doing so because I felt so sorry for him with his puppy dog face, and I couldn't say no. "I came home, and it was pure torture. I had to do it all by myself, and it was then I hit rock bottom.

"You never realize how deep you're in until you've hit the bottom. Since you can't look down any longer, you have to look up and you can finally see just how far you've fallen. I saw that that night, when you weren't there. And I honestly don't think I could have realized that, recognized it for what it was, if you were there. I needed that alone time. But after I'd figured out the who's, what's, when's, why's, and how's, then I needed you. I needed you to get me out of that rut. And we fixed it. We fixed it together. That's the kind of thing that has to happen now. That's what you need right now. Without your safety net. You need to hit rock bottom." Her resolve crumbles and she talks out through choking sobs, "And I can't be here while you do it."

"No!"

"Yeah." She takes her already packed suitcase and heads out the door. "I'm hanging at Luke and Mitch's for a couple of days. I'll be there when you're ready. When you know what you want."

And she heads out the door, her footsteps padding away.

And I'm alone.


	16. Apart and Together

**A/N:** I know it's late. Sorry about that. I also think it's a little weird... maybe too weird, especially at the end. Please- constructive criticism on the last part? Please?

The first day of my alone time is spent, well, alone. So is the second day. And the third. And the fourth.

The fifth day of my alone time is spent in silence. Clay off at work, Chelsea at the supermarket with Chris. I wandered around the house for nearly half an hour before I found two books Clay left for me, along with a little note.

**Spence-**

**Ashley called me on the phone last night and told me what happened between you two. We're both really worried about you, and we know that you're feeling alone right now. So I found these books hidden in my library somewhere, and thought they were perfect for how you're feeling. Read them. And then maybe you won't feel so alone.**

**Love, Clay**

I take a look at the two books left on table, stacked up neatly with the little yellow Post-It on top. _The Bell Jar_ and _Oranges Aren't the Only Fruit_. Two vaguely famous novels that I've heard about in passing. I know_The Bell Jar_ is about a suicidal woman who suffers from some sort of mental disorder. Brilliant. Clay thinks I'm about to kill myself. Which I'm not. I know that my behavior in the past few days may have definitely caused people to think I'm thinking of ending it all, but it's never crossed my mind. Well, I will admit that it's crossed my mind, but never for more than a fleeting second. Maybe he thinks I need to see what can happen if I let this take over my life. But it's too late for that. It already has.

I decide to put off the confusing reactions set off by _The Bell Jar_ and continue on to _Oranges Aren't the Only Fruit_. I remember hearing about it briefly in my teenage years. A boy who had just moved here from New York in my English class in sophomore year had requested we read it. But the teacher had told him we didn't read books like that here. I thought is was something like _A Clockwork Orange_; filled with torture and rape and that kind of stuff. Turns out, though, I learn as I skim the back cover, it's basically the story of my life. A daughter of a terribly religious family turns out to be gay. Oh, sure, bits and pieces of it are different, but the basic outline is the same. I read the entire book in about two hours, feeling no more satisfied than I did before reading. I still feel restless, hurt, confused. Alone. And I know that now I need Ashley more than ever, but I know she won't take me back. Not yet.

The emptiness of the house makes me feel like a grown-up, returning to a now abandoned childhood home. I wander around aimlessly, taking in all of the things in Clay's house, trying to evoke some sort of feeling in me.

And while I'm waiting for this revelation to happen, the phone rings. I hesitate, not knowing who would be calling Clay and Chelsea in the middle of the day. I assume that most of their friends would be at work, so I figure that it must be some sort of emergency.

I pick up the phone, but the moment I hear the voice on the other end, I wish I hadn't.

"Clay!" an angry, threateningly familiar female voice shouted from the other end. "Where do you get off not telling me your sister's back in-"

"Mom?" I question fearfully with more than a little crack in my voice.

"What?" She comes over as shocked. "You're not Clay. Definitely not Glen, either. Who the-" She catches herself and breathes in a deep sigh. "_Spencer_."

No words are needed to confirm this. None at all. We both know who I am now, no use in hiding it. But I can feel it, inside of me, that part of me that's still trying ridiculously hard to hide.

"The nerve! You just come back here to this town, after you ripped us apart, Spencer! Do you know how much we've gone through just so we_don't_ turn into the town _laughingstocks_? Every year damn year at that damn barbecue some damn idiot has to bring the whole damn thing up! How do you think your father and your brother and his _wife_! His _wife_, Spencer! Do you know what you did to her?"

"Yeah," I answer weakly. "I gave her more of a relationship, more love than Glen ever will."

Mom doesn't respond. Can't respond. Because we're both stunned I said that; stunned I would even let her believe, even think, that it was consensual. Because I've never told her that. All these years, and I barely once tried to tell her Elle loved me back. At that point, the only thing I cared about was not being shipped off to one of those ex-gay camps I'd read so much about online. And the best way, I decided, for that not to happen was for me to pretend like none of this happened. That's where the pretending started. And it's ending, now. But I get the feeling that this is just the beginning of the end.

"You disgust me." Her voice drags through the receiver, like she's trying to maximize the length of the word just so that she can make it cut that much deeper. "Do you know that? Do you know how much I hate this lifestyle you've chosen?"

I cry. Light sobs, but crying nonetheless. I want to be strong. I want to tell her I don't care. But I can't. Because I do care; because she's still my mother.

And I still want her to love me.

"Mom. Just... don't. I- why can't you just be the mom who used to love me, unconditionally?" My whole life, it feels like, hinges on this question. This question that I already know the answer to.

"Because you aren't the daughter you used to be," she tells me, and for the first time, I detect a hint of weakness in her voice. "I want to be that mom, Spencer, but you're not letting me, dammit! You've gone out with these, these _harlots_ just to upset me! There's no other reason!"

I can tell that this conversation won't last much longer, on account of me being too teary to talk. "Mom, you're wrong on so many levels. First, Ashley is not a harlot."

"Who is Ashley?"

A deep breath on my part. "My girlfriend."

A whispered curse word on her part.

"Second, she's the first girl I've dated since Elle. Everything you told me, everything you told me to be, came out in college and I tried dating boys." Tears splatter patterns on my jean skirt. "Just to make you happy. Because I wanted you to love me more than anything. I tried, Mom. For you. For Dad. For Glen. But it never worked. Why? Because I still like girls, and I think I'm falling hard for Ashley. Harder than I could ever fall for any boy."

She scoffs at this. "Spencer, you're just kidding yourself. Get out of this rebellious phase, and come back to who you are! Because I know you are not a dirty, slutty lesbian!"

"But Mom," I choke out, trying with all my willpower not to hang up the phone. I have to see this through. I just have to. "Ashley is my everything. She has been for three years. And just about a month ago, we became what we are now! Two _women_ who care about each deep enough to form a romantic relationship! Why, Mom? Why can't you get it? She brought me back here."

"_She_ brought you back?" I can almost hear the look on my mother's face; the one that makes her look like her eyes are daggers and her mouth is more open than the mouth of a cave. "Get. Away. From. Her. Now."

"What?"

"She brought you back, when you're still diseased? When you haven't been cured? She's the devil, Spencer. She will cause your downfall. And I can promise you I won't be there to pick up the pieces."

I hang the phone up without a good-bye. I sink to the floor, my head wrapped in my arms, resting on my knees, my whole being hanging on something that I tried to get rid of. Ashley. It all comes back to her. Every little thing in my life that's been perfect; the _only_ perfect bits of life have been spent with her. And I need her back.

But she doesn't want me back, I know. Me and stupid wallowing in my stupid self-pity. And now, as tears flow like rapids from my eyes, as my whole body shakes with fear and anger, as my heart trembles under the sheer weight of my predicament, I'm alone. Alone once again, and I'm starting to think maybe I always will be. Because I clearly was never meant to let anyone in. Never meant to let them have any more than half of me. But a small part of my brain tells me that's not true; Elle had every part of me, and then she gave it up; released it into thin air. And I can't find it.

There are two paths here, two paths to take. One of them involves Ashley; full of all the joys and sorrows, the ups and downs, the extremes of life. The other involves withdrawing; being content to be alone. Never being truly happy, but never feeling pain.

I can't decide which one I want. They're both appealing I think with my head down on my knees.

And then I look up.

Maybe it's symbolic; maybe it's the phone that reminds me; maybe it's Ashley's words.

"_Since you can't look down any longer, you have to look up and you can finally see just how far you've fallen."_

But I see it. I see how far I've fallen in a mix of swirling colors above my head. I see Elle and our days together; I see the barbecue; I see the first day of college; I see me and Ashley running on the beach; I see Ashley kissing me. I see Ashley leaving me.

And by looking at that, I see how far up I have to climb. I start by grabbing the corner of the desk and standing. I take in the empty house, feeling the small victory inside of me.

It's a start.

I continue with a ride. I head out to Clay's garage where my high school bicycle is still kept. Luckily, I haven't grown so much since then and it still fits. So I go.

The wind whips in my hair as I fly by the world, so distorted by my speed. I don't what prompted me to take this trip, but it's exhilarating.

I think on the state of my life as I zoom down the main streets, the alleyways, and those in between. Life with this burden is a terrible existence (if it could really be called that), but now that I've leafed through it and gotten to the root of it, can I be sure that I can leave it in the past forever?

The answer is very simple: only if I stay in this town.

I think on the state of my life as I zoom down the main streets, the alleyways, and those in between. Life at the bottom is not a pleasant place, but now that I recognize where I am, can I be sure that I can get out of it?

The answer is very simple: only if Ashley is on my side.

I think on the state of my family as I zoom down the main streets, the alleyways, and those in between. Life for them has been incredibly simple for the past four years since I left, but now that I've come back and still am who I was, can I be sure that they're life will stay that easy?

The answer is very simple: only if I leave this town.

I think on the state of my relationship with Ashley as I zoom down the main streets, the alleyways, and those in between. Life without her has become so ridiculously hard, but now that I've hit the bottom, can I be sure that she will come back?

The answer is very simple: only if I let her.

These paradoxical thoughts race through my mind like little rockets, bravely searching into the relatively unknown with theoretical ideas of what they might find, but no real proof of it. I'm so confused, so lost. So lost that I inadvertently take myself to the cemetery. I slide to a stop in the gravel, the noise crunching beneath my tires.

The wrought iron gates bearing the name "Justin's Garden Cemetery" have been left open. They're always open. On Sundays, people come here after church to put flowers on graves. When I was little, we would come here every Sunday and leave flowers on my grandmother's grave. I'd never even known her; Glen and Clay hadn't either. I don't even think Mom had met her more than three or four times.

But every Sunday we would come here and put flowers there. Petunias. Always petunias. I'd thought they were the most dreadfully ugly things in the world, but I never said anything, because Dad seemed to like them. He'd stand there for at least a half an hour while Mom took the three of us over to the empty field. She'd spread out a blanket and tell us a fairy tale while we wiggled and squealed with delight.

We stopped going to the cemetery when I was nine.

Mom never said exactly why, and Dad never ever talked about it, even when we were going; one day we were coming home from church and we drove right past the cemetery. No one said anything. Until two months later when Glen, Clay, and I asked Mom why we stopped, and why we had even gone in the first place.

"Your dad had some troubles with his mom. He's fixed them now," was all she said. I remember wondering how going to a grave of a dead person could help someone fix their problems. Now, I understand.

I ride my bike up the path through the cemetery. It used to be more gravel, but now it's cement. It's all changed since I last came here. Elle and I's tree droops in the sunlight, its branches gnarled and crumbling. I debate briefly about whether or not I should visit Grandmother's grave, but I can't find a point in doing so.

I turn around and return to town. I get onto Main Street, and it's like all of my childhood memories come back in full force. I see the restaurant where we'd always go on Saturdays in the summer for ice cream. It can't really be called a restaurant; more of a shack. Sam's was its name back then, but now it's boarded up and the blue-and-white striped paint is chipping into little piles on the ground.

I remember the ice cream there was better than any I'd ever tasted, and better than anything I've since tasted. We would ride our bikes down there at about noon every Saturday from May until September, sometimes even on Fridays when Dad came home early from work. I would always get the cotton candy flavor in a cup with tiny cows all over it. Sam would hand it to me with a wink and a smile and I'd feel like the luckiest little girl in the world. There used to be a sand box next to the shack, with little benches painted by the neighborhood kids. I helped paint one of them with Clay, Glen, Luke, and Elle.

I jump off my bike, leaving it down in front of the building. After quick inspection around back, I find the benches still there, piled up in a wobbly stack. Ours is on the top.

It really shouldn't be considered a painting, our bench. More like a mural, because all of our handprints are on there, repeated millions of times over or so it seems. I can remember that afternoon in my mind, when Sam asked us to paint this bench. I hogged all the purple, Luke monopolized the baby blue, Clay held onto all the green, Glen stole the black, and Elle snatched the yellow. None of us wanted to give up our colors, and you couldn't really paint with only one color, so we decided to make a bunch of handprints.

I put my hand on the purple one I'd made over ten years ago. Predictably, it doesn't fit at all, but some part of me hopes that if I just keeping sticking it on the other one, I'll find one it does fit on.

So, finally, it hits me. What I'm missing. I'm missing my childhood. I'm angry at how ruined it is now, how broken. I can't look at it without looking at the future and it's become.

I've had my childhood; it's over and done. I've had the most perfect, idyllic childhood. It's my teenager years that are the problem. And that's how it needs to stay.

So I cry. I lean onto that bench and I cry, not even noticing the storm clouds moving overhead until they open down on me like my own tears. I wipe my tears from my face, but it soon becomes hard to distinguish them from the rain.

I look at this town and what it means to me. What it meant to me. I look at my life like a mystery waiting to be solved; the Ohio case has been solved. It's closed. I can't keep looking back at it or I won't be able to focus on the other open cases. Now it's time for me to move on to the next case, one that I hope will never be closed.

I tear down the rainy Main Street on my bike. I know I'm being reckless, but I have somewhere to go. Somewhere I need to be.

In about five minutes, I'm there. I hope I'm in the right place, because it's been awhile since he told me his address. I pound on the door and wait.

And she opens it. Ashley is there, and I feel everything I've done today just fades away. Because I know what I want. I want to be with her. I want to love her.

But she looks at me warily. "Spencer, I told you-"

I think I'm crying, but I can't tell because of the rain. "I know what you told me." In spite of myself, I smile. "I know what I want."

Her jaw drops. Literally. "Spencer..." She steps out of the door, into the rain, and tentatively touches my hair. "Are you sure?"

And I see the earnest look in her dark brown eyes, the breath held in as she waits for my answer, the tears barely forming on her face, the hand at her side nervously fidgeting. I feel like a girl in one of those movies, being swept off her feet and into the arms of the most unexpected person. But it's real. And I've finally figured out that so many people would die right now to have these kind of deep feelings for another person. "Yeah. I am."

She breathes out a long deep sigh of relief. "Good. Because I don't know if I could stand it if you weren't." And she kisses me passionately, right there, in the rain, in full view of anyone who wants to see.

It's the best kiss of my life.


	17. Hopes and Dreams

**A/N:** Sorry I haven't been able to update for a while. My hard drive died, and I had to rewrite this from the beginning... stupid computer. Anyway, I don't think I've said it recently, but a huge THANK YOU to everyone who reviews. Those reviews are awesome and help me keep going with the story. Oh, and happy Valentine's Day. Even though by the time most of you read this it won't be...

She leads me inside the house, into its relative warmth. I see the smile on her face as our hands dangle together. A smile that livens her eyes and scrunches her nose. A smile that it most often found on the face of a child running toward a parent returning from a trip. A smile of innocence.

Luke and Mitch peer around the corner, trying not to be spotted, but failing miserably. I don't mind. I beyond minding who sees me now. Because I'm who I am, and I will let the world know. I'm done hiding.

But I'm not done crying.

I don't always cry because I'm sad; sometimes I cry just to deal with things. I've never been much of a talker. I've always been a crier. Always. And now, as I cry into Ashley's shoulder while she leads me up the stairs, this is the best cry I've ever had.

She lets go of my hand at the top of the steps and rushes off into what I presume is her room. I'm left in the tiny hallway, my tears stopping little by little. I look around at Luke and Mitch's house; Mitch must make a lot of money, because I know a college student like Luke couldn't afford any kind of house, even if it is more of a stand-alone row room than a traditional house.

I put my arms around myself, not only to shield myself from the coldness of my wet clothes, but also for comfort. I haven't really had time to process what I'd just done, with Ashley and with my mom. Part of me wants to start processing right here in the hallway, right now, my hair leaving water marks over the hardwood floor. But the more rational part of me knows that I need to wait for Ashley to come back before I should try to process anything. And for once I listen to the rational part of me.

Ashley comes back a couple of seconds later holding a bundle of clothes wrapped in her arms and staring timidly at the floor. "I got you some of my clothes to change into, if you want? 'Cause we could always go back to Clay's if you need to. We don't have to stay here."

"It's okay. I wouldn't want anyone out in that rain right now."

I think I've said the complete wrong thing, because the next second she snatches the clothes away with a huge smile on her face and runs into her bedroom, presumably throwing them messily on the floor. She grabs my hand and pulls me along with her downstairs. I don't protest because I'm finally listening to the part of me telling what I want, not the part telling me what I shouldn't.

Luke and Mitch are still in the kitchen quietly preparing dinner. They whisper to each other, probably about us.

"You two are such gossips," Ashley informs them.

"But you two sure are something to gossip about," Mitch jokes.

"Pssh," she shoots back. "You only wish you were as cool as us."

"Oh, yeah," Mitch swoons. "I only wish I had an adorable girlfriend who had me totally whipped." He emphasizes his point by flicking his wrist and making a whipping noise.

Ashley rolls her eyes. "Please. She hasn't got me totally whipped."

Mitch raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Nope. I choose to be totally whipped." She laughs at him and his stunned face. I guess Ashley wins that round.

She leads me out the door and into the backyard, which is more of a hill than a yard. And predictably, it's muddy from the rain. Ashley smirks at me, and I'm getting more than a little worried. I'm trying hard to trust. It works so much easier when it's her I have to trust.

But that doesn't mean I'm not curious. "Ashley... what are we doing out here?" Not that I don't appreciate her wet T-shirt, but I'm sure I could appreciate it from under a warm comfortable umbrella.

"We've been spending all this time reliving your glorious childhood, I thought I'd share a little of mine with you," she says.

I gave her a look. "What do you mean?" I'm skeptical about this, but I try not to show it. Because I know most of her childhood was spent alone in her house or partying wildly.

She notices my hesitation. "Don't worry; it's not some weird drinking game or kinky sex thing. I did have bits and pieces of a perfect childhood. When I was really little. Like before my mom walked out on us." She takes a deep breath and continued. "My mom's parents had a house in a ranch in Montana. When I was a toddler, we went there all the time. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving we'd meet all the cousins there. And in the spring months, it would always rain. Instead of being stuck inside all day, we decided to go out and play. We were fighting and playing and stuff and then we all pushed my cousin Joey down a hill because he was being so annoying." She laughs bitterly at that. Like she's remembering something she almost wants to forget. "The hill was totally muddy, and it just looked like sledding, but on mud. So we all started doing it. We all rolled down that hill, and we got back inside and nearly got slapped for ruining our clothes." She laughs again, but not as bitterly this time. And then her expression changes. She's fun and playful and happy again. Sometimes I think she's bipolar. "So I want to go mud sledding with you, right here."

I look automatically down at my clothes. Apprehensively. "I don't know. I kind of like these clothes."

Ashley laughs at me. "Oh, Spencer, you're so naïve sometimes." She leans over and whispers in my ear, "There's no rule that says you _have_ to wear clothes." I feel myself blushing and find myself blubbering as she still lingers next to me. Then again she chuckles. "Relax; keep your pants on. That is..." She waggles her eyebrows seductively at me. "If you want to."

I can't help but feel my problems fade away at the sight of her pretending to be something of a very promiscuous slut. "You are so gonna get it!" I start to chase after her.

"Is that a promise?" she squeals as she turns and runs for the top of the hill. I'm close behind her, because of my head start. Giggling furiously, she gets to the top and stumbles over her own feet. I try to skid to a stop but slip in the mud and fall right on my butt. We're laughing at it, though. We're laughing, and I feel good. More importantly, I _let_ myself feel good.

"C'mon!" she urges, and, with no warning, grasps my hand and we slide down the tiny hill in a tangle of mud-stained limbs. The plummet makes me laugh again. And not the kind of laugh that you utter after hearing a funny joke or seeing prat falls. It's the kind of laughter children use at the playground. The innocent laughter.

I hit the ground, feeling mud get in every little place it can. I spit some out of my mouth, but I'm still laughing. So is she as she screams and backs away when the mud comes flying out. We're so much like children on this day, but something more than that. Something bigger.

And so we go. Over and over again, we climb that hill and slide down it, creating rivets in it, which Luke and Mitch probably won't be too pleased about. But then again, they probably won't be too pleased about the ditch forming at the bottom, either.

Little by little, I'm letting go. I'm letting go of the fears that I've allowed to dominate my life for so long. I'm letting them go as I hold onto Ashley's hand. I'm letting them go as we roll down squishy hills and throw mud balls at each other. I letting them go as she sneaks a kiss.

Despite the layers of goo covering our faces, our arms, our clothes, our bodies, I never want to stop this feeling. What begins as an innocent peck turns into something deeper, more meaningful. It turns into the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle. And your spine tingle and your voice sigh. And your body fall into the other person's arms while they squeeze you so tightly you think you might lose the ability to breath, but it's all worth it because you can feel every little part of them pressing against you, telling you that the arms that surround you, the lips that kiss yours, the body that controls your every emotion, are never going to leave you.

Our foreheads rest together in the rainy downfall, the mud sticking us even closer together like a form of glue. No words are spoken because no words are needed. It's as simple as that. She grins widely at me and I offer a small, shy smile in return.

And then, just like that in the middle of the storm, Ashley sweeps me up into a dance. There's no music, but she twirls me around with dips and spins and I tend to get the idea that my brain just might explode from all the happiness it's receiving at this very moment. It hasn't received anything remotely close to this happiness, this bliss, in five years.

I've never really danced before. I've always been too afraid; I've never really liked it. But when it's Ashley who's holding my hand, Ashley who's leading me... it doesn't seem so scary after all. As we go, she talks to me about all the dances she's tried to learn- the tango, the waltz, the rhumba- but she never managed to get a hold on any of them. She says the way they made her move her body just felt unnatural. The next thing Ashley says is that dancing in the rain with me is the most natural feeling in the world.

We break up the dancing party and head back into the house as quietly as possible so as not to alert Luke and Mitch to our rather dirty bodies.

Unfortunately, Mitch spots us immediately. "Hey!" He eyes for a second and then starts yelling again. "You are going to ruin everything! All this furniture and, and, and the towels! We'll never be able to use them again! And-" But Luke cuts him off with a rough kiss and then gives us a thumbs up sign.

We sneak up the stairs, giggling all the way like two small children successfully avoiding punishment. Ashley scampers down the hall on tip-toes, her shoes off so as not to track mud everywhere. She tosses me the clothes she'd found earlier and says, "Quick! Change in the bathroom; I'll change in the boys'."

"Be careful," I warn. "Mitch'll have a fit if you destroy his towels."

"I bet they're Martha Stewart towels," she laughs and disappears into their bedroom. I shake my head at her and go into the bathroom in the hallway.

Once inside, I take off the disgustingly dirt-covered clothes and step into the tiny shower to get some of the mud that had seeped through my clothes off. I wash under a steady stream of warm water with a steady smile on my face. Looking back at the beginning of the day, I can't imagine how I ended up here, in Luke and Mitch's shower, after a mud fight and some making out with Ashley. Life is funny sometimes.

I dry my hair with one of the towels because there's no hairdryer, so it's still wet when I come out. I feel as though I've opened up a whole new me; a part I've never experienced before, not even with Elle.

Ashley is already back in the room, brushing her hair when I come in unceremoniously. She turns around, mid-brush, and just stares. At me. She's staring at me.

"What?" I know I'm blushing, and talk to cover that up. She drops the brush and walks over, moving a strand of my wet hair behind my ear. This only makes me blush even more.

"You." She kisses me lightly and then pulls me into a hug, her hand tangled in my hair, her other clutching my waist tightly. And I feel a single teardrop fall gently on my shoulder. I guess I've underestimated how much of a toll this trip has had on her.

"I'm not going anywhere this time, Ash," I tell her with absolute certainty. "I promise."

"I hope so," she replies. And I let her know that I'm not going anywhere. I kiss her full on the lips and she responds immediately. I can almost feel a raging river running through me, the heat of the moment only driving it more and more; the last ounce of my resistance fades away. The last ounce of my fear falls to the floor. The only thing left is the swirling of lips and arms and hands consuming so wholly, so rightly.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Mitch sing-songs from the door, perfectly aware of what he's interrupting. "Dinner time!"

Ashley stops reluctantly and then turns her attention to the boy in our doorway, attempting an innocent look. "You are so gonna get it!" She chases after him and he just laughs as he goes. Shaking my head, I follow them out, and for once in my life, there's a feeling of normalcy.

Later that night, we snuggle under Ashley's covers, watching the still-falling rain splash the window. I'm safely tucked under her right arm, my head resting on her chest.

"Hey, Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going to happen to us after Ohio?"

I scrunch up my face, thinking what a strange question that is. But for the second time today, I realize what I've put her through and how insecure I've made her. About me. About us. And for the second time today, I take the initiative. I kiss her on the cheek, lingering there a little longer than necessary. "Nothing. We'll still be like this; just like this."

And even in the darkness of night, I can see the adorable face I love so much cracking into a smile.


	18. Conversations and Complications

**A/N: **Okay, I know it's late and all. I'm sorry. It was also supposed to be longer, but then it got too long and I didn't think I wanted to put everything in this one chapter, so I'm splitting it into two parts.

"I got a call from Mom and Dad today." We're back at Clay's house now, out in his backyard, a day after the fun of the mud sliding.

"Oh?" I sit between Ashley's legs, leaning up against her chest as she leans up against the tree. The stars twinkle above us in the late night sky and the remnants of the fire we had after dinner and Chris' departure to bed still remain.

He looks at me cautiously. "They want to have dinner."

Ashley smirks at him. "Have fun with Madam Bitch-A-Lot."

Clay shakes his head. "They want to have dinner with Spencer."

Ashley's smirk drops into a shocked expression "As in my Spencer?" I know it's possessive and puts me on the same level as property, but there is something undeniably warm that starts in my toes and travels all the way up to the top of my head at knowing that I am hers. And that makes the prospect of dinner with my parents so much less daunting.

"The very same," Clay lets out dryly. "What do you say, Spence?" What _do_ I say? It's a loaded question that one day ago I would've totally turned down. But now I'm not sure. I realize that closure needs to happen, but such _intense_ closure might be a little too much, a little too soon.

"I don't know," I reply quietly. Ashley wraps her arms tightly around my waist, but it doesn't help that much.

"When?" she asks.

"Tomorrow."

Ashley wrinkles her nose. "Tomorrow? That's not much notice."

"Why?" I wonder. "Why would Mom and Dad ever want to see me again?"

Clay shrugs. "I don't know. They're not the type to reconcile; stuck in their old ways. They could possibly bring an unattached boy and try to get you to date him."

"They wouldn't." It's an automatic response on my part, because I don't want to believe it. But I know it's true. Everyone else knows that, too, and none of us feel the need to confirm it.

Chelsea speaks up for the first time that night. "I know I don't understand everything about this situation, but I think you should go."

"Are you crazy?" Ashley shoots out in my defense.

"Ashley," I whisper to her. She visibly calms down, but I can still feel her heart beating rapidly. Then I gaze at Chelsea, a sigh on my face. "Why?" That seems to be the question of the moment.

She shrugs, just like her husband, and suddenly appears sheepish. "Just seems like the thing to do. I know there are parts of this story I don't get-can't get- but you've come so far since you first came, and it feels like the right time. You're still feeling strong from what you overcame yesterday, and maybe you should monopolize that feeling before it goes away." It makes sense, what she says. Even Ashley doesn't dispute the facts right in front of her. And the strength she's referring to must only be somewhere deep down inside, because I don't feel strong at all, but I somehow manage to be able to say, "Yeah. Tell them I'll go."

"Tell them _we'll_ go," Ashley adds and kisses me on the top of the head.

For some reason, I don't want her to come to meet my family. Somehow I think that her innocence will be shattered if she meets my family, but I know she's a lot less innocent than I am. Somehow I think it's a different kind of innocence. The important kind, but I can't quite define what makes it important or even what makes it different from the other kind of innocence. I feel that my family tends to shatter the world around them when it comes to me. They just tend to make everyone uncomfortable, and I just can't bring Ashley into that world. That's the side of me that I've been living with for the past five years. My newly found logical side tells me that the smart thing to do would be to take Ashley, and in the end it would be easier for both of us. So I try to listen to that side of me.

"That'd be great." I suddenly feel tired, like the energy of saying those three little words took as much out of me as if I'd just run a marathon.

Clay smiles at me, his brown eyes mournful and glad at the same time. "I'll go call them right now."

"And on that note, I think we'll be going to bed," Ashley says, letting her arms go and pushing me up- focusing her hands on my butt. But I don't mind. I blush, sure, but I don't mind. She just gives me a devilish smirk that's utterly adorable. Chelsea clearly notices this, because she also smirks. I just blush even more.

She leads me up to our bedroom and we get ready silently. Ashley finishes before me and is in bed when I come back from brushing my teeth. I know I should be back in my own bed, but the anticipation of tomorrow makes me want to snuggle up into Ashley's arms more than anything.

She doesn't seem to mind, however, as I cautiously slip under the covers and touch her hand lightly as a warning. Like a lighthouse, signaling that I'm coming. Without the surprise I expect, Ashley kisses me on top of my head. "Just go to sleep, Spence," she whispers in a breathlessly comforting voice. "Whatever you're feeling right now, we can deal with that tomorrow. Because I know from experience insomnia gets you nowhere, as demonstrated freshman year."

_In the middle of freshman year, Ashley's wild and outgoing nature still got to me. I tried not to hang around her that much, but I only had two other options: Madison, the preppy girl, and Shawn, the ever-intellectual boy. Madison annoyed me after a while because of her incessant talk about boys and make-up, but she was always a good laugh. I liked talking to Shawn, but he lost me pretty quickly with his knowledge, especially about social problems._

_But Ashley always had something fun cooked up her sleeve, and I couldn't resist going along with it. She hung out with Aiden, who didn't work at the Blockbuster back then. He was a junior at that time. I barely knew him until the day of truth or dare._

_It was me, Ashley, Aiden, Shawn, and Madison hanging around my and Ashley's place on a lazy Friday night in the middle of January. After searching for hours for something to do, Madison finally suggested truth or dare. It was decided we'd play in a spin-the-bottle fashion: someone spins the bottle, and whoever it lands on has to choose._

_The first few rounds consisted of us being chicken and choosing truth. Then my turn came up. I spun that bottle, and wouldn't you know it? It landed square on Ashley, whose face lit up with a smile._

"_Truth or dare?" I asked nervously because by the twinkle in her eyes, I already knew what her mind was set on._

"_Dare." And I could also tell she expected it to be something really out there, like getting naked, covering herself in sundae toppings, and then running around our dorm outside. That, by the way, was something she dared Shawn to do later. He did, but he kind of cheated in Ashley's mind because the very first thing he made was a pair of "underwear" out of whipped cream._

_Now at this point in my life, I was really naïve. Young and naïve and easily embarrassed. I didn't want to make Ashley do anything weird like that, because I didn't have the guts to say it to her. So I settled with something neutral. "Um... I dare you to stay up for 72 hours straight."_

_She quirked a grin. "Gee, Spencer, I was expecting something a little more wild." I blushed. "But alright. How long is that? Like three days?"_

"_Yep," I told her. "Starting from when you wake up tomorrow."_

"_You've got yourself a deal."_

_By Sunday evening Ashley had already gone a little crazy. Aiden came over for a study session, but Ashley was too hyped up on adrenaline to sit still for more than a second. He got really frustrated and kind of blew up at her, but she appeared to be incredibly delirious because all she did was laugh at the way his nostrils flared up. He left to study by himself._

_The next day she waltzed into her class, ready to take the test, and promptly fell asleep. Aiden passed with flying colors._

_To make things worse for her, we'd all agreed before the game that if someone failed to complete a dare, they'd have to be submitted to some torture concocted by the other four. I stayed out of the debate for the most part, but it was decided that Ashley would go to class with just a bra, underwear, and a trenchcoat on and then drop it in front of everyone- including the teacher. She did, and with perfect grace. She may have gotten into a boatload of trouble, but she was loyal to us all the way._

"_So the dean asked me why I did it," Ashley explained later as she told us of her temporary leave from classes. "Asked me if it was part of some prank or initiation or dare or something." We all exchanged glances, thinking she'd ratted us out. "I told him it was Wednesday, and everyone needs some spice added to their Wednesdays."_

_And that was the end of that. Although none of the boys in that class could ever quite meet Ashley's eye after the incident._

It's morning. The morning before I face what might possibly be my greatest fear. Ashley's predictably asleep next to me, breathing softly. Then I understand why she's still lying there peacefully: the sun has barely begun to rise. I can see the red and orange color splayed across the starless sky. It looks like that shot from "The Lion King." I can almost hear the African drums and chanting in the distance.

I head down to the kitchen, my sock-covered feet padding quietly on the floor so as not to wake anyone else. I remember that mornings in Ohio can sometimes be too cold for shorts and a tank-top, so I take the fuzzy blanket off the couch.

The sun blinds me as I settle in the hammock under the trees. The peaceful chirping of the birds, the dewy blades of grass tickling my feet as I lazily brush over top of them in the swinging hammock, the last of the crickets hopelessly beating their wings, the cool haze and slight breeze running through the quiet yard, the far off car noises of people going to work, all remind me of the mornings of my younger years. My innocent years. But what is innocent is not always the way of the world, I guess.

I don't feel like doing anything anymore, like life has no purpose. But I look up to the window of the bedroom farthest on the left with the light flickering on and I know it does. I just know exactly know what it is.

So when I hop back into the kitchen and Ashley's sitting there reading the back of the Fruit Loops box, I ask her. "Hey, Ash?"

"Hmm?"

"What's the meaning of life?"

And instead of laughing at me or looking at me like I'm crazy, she shrugs. "Whatever you want it to mean."

I sigh and sit down at the table. "That's not helpful."

She tears her eyes away from the Fruit Loops. "Well what do you want it to mean?"

"I don't know. What about you?" I think I've got her cornered, but she has an answer ready for me.

"Love," Ashley smiles. "That's the reason for life in my eyes. Like that RENT song?" I'm surprised she knows that reference. Then again, RENT _is_ about AIDS, sex, drugs, and gay people. I guess it'd be surprising if she referenced Gershwin.

"That's a really generic answer." It almost feels like she just made it up right then and there, on the spot, simply to prove me wrong.

Ashley raises her eyebrows at me as she chews her cereal. After a swallow, she explains, "I don't care if it's generic. It still holds true for me. And don't mean just soulmate, dancing in the streets, shout it on the rooftops, kind of love, but all sorts. Everything revolves around the love and relationships we have with the people in our lives." I realize that her logic is insightful and makes sense, but it's very hard to concentrate on her words while she's swirling around a bowl of Fruit Loops and wearing pajama pants with monkeys and bananas on them. Okay, those are my pants, but that doesn't make any difference.

"I mean, look at you. Your whole life is dependent on your relationship with your family," she points out. Yeah, I'm interested in this. And asking.

"Huh?"

She smiles. "I knew you'd bite." My mind goes to unexpected places at this comment. "Your relationship with your family was the thing that drove you out of Ohio, right?"

I nod. When I met Ashley and she asked why I chose UCLA, I told her it was because I was debating between Ohio State and UCLA. And then I vaguely told her Ohio held some bad memories for me and I ended up going to UCLA because of that.

"If your parents hadn't been such evil little people, then you'd be at Ohio State instead of UCLA. And you'd never have met me or Aiden or Madison or Shawn or gotten that writing job offer or had any of those memories that we've made over the years," Ashley explains. "Your whole life changed because of this move, and it was love or lack there of that caused it."

"That's... oddly insightful." And I mean it.

It's one of those days where you're dreading the end so much that everything goes by so fast. I'm reading a book for what feels like ten minutes, but I look at the clock and it's been two hours. I spend some time cuddling with Ashley in the hammock for what I think is fifteen minutes and I take a nap, waking up three hours later. And before I know it, it's dinner time.

I stand in our room, looking at myself in the mirror, fretting over what I should wear. I know that making a big deal out of this isn't the thing I should be stressing over, but it's a lot easier to stress over clothes than to stress about what's going on. Because even now, as I'm letting myself just barely think about it, I get all jittery inside.

Ashley comes up behind me, puts her hands on my shoulders. She kisses me on the cheek and smiles widely. "You look perfect, Spencer, so stop freaking out. Things are gonna be fine. You have Clay, and Chelsea. And you have me."

"Yeah," I sigh. And then I start to panic. "But they have Dad and Glen and Elle and oh God, they have Mom. Mom! You don't know my mom! She's-she's- Ashley!"

Ashley makes "shh"-ing noises and puts her arms around my waist. "Just calm down, Spencer. Everything will be okay. Your family, whatever is thrown our way, it'll be just that. _Ours_. Our problems, not yours. You don't have to deal with anything alone anymore, not at all. Alright?" I nod, but I don't really mean it. She nods back; like she knows how I'm feeling, but she accepts it.

"Girls! Let's get going!" Clay yells. "You know Mom hates lateness, Spence!" It's his attempt at a joke, though I can't find it in myself to laugh.

We hurry down the stairs and out the door where Chelsea's handing off Chris to what I assume is a neighbor.

"Auntie Spencer! Ashley!" he calls. "Hi!"

Ashley puts on a brave smile and hurries over to him. "Hey, there little man. You know, I really need to spend some time with you. And who's this?" She directs it at the woman standing near Chelsea.

"Oh, hello," she says. "I'm Rita, a neighbor. I have my own little boy Adam who's having a sleep-over with Chris tonight, because of dinner." Rita gives a knowing smirk and looks at her.

"I'm Ashley." She extends her hand to Rita, who shakes it.

"How are you related to this whole little family gathering?" Rita asks with lots of hand gestures.

"I'm Spencer's girlfriend," she explains.

Rita puts a hand on her shoulder and I think she's about to say something awful. "You're a brave one, then. I've met the mother. She's something."

"So I've heard," Ashley replies.

"What's wrong with Grandma?" Chris pipes up unexpectedly. Ashley, Rita, and Chelsea all simply stare at one another. Luckily, Clay comes to the rescue.

"Let's get moving."


	19. Fights and Family

**A/N: **I'm not the world's happiest with this chapter, but here it is. When I get to the end, I plan on reading the whole thing from start to finish(something I've never done before) and reworking it so it's a lot better. Then maybe I'll be able to put my finger on what irks me with this chapter... possibly the confrontation, because I'm such a non-confrontational person myself.

It all comes back. Every little thing that I remember floods into my conscious like the bursting of a dam. I see the house now; the house I grew up in, the house I grew out of. The only thing keeping me from swimming through these newly opened memories is the small hand holding mine. I still don't know if I can do this. But maybe that's part of the point. Whenever I do things, they're always planned, and I'm always sure. Being unsure could give me some sort of advantage that I've never had- I'll react with complete honesty. Not knowing what I'll be facing, the only thing I can be certain of is exactly that. The certainty of uncertainty in every aspect of our lives is a strange phenomenon, one that I fear more than almost any other.

The car slows to a stop on the perfectly kept concrete driveway, leading to a three car garage. I always found that part of our house stupid: three car garage, but until Glen and Clay were seventeen, we only had two. I found most of our house to be like that: six bedrooms, but we only needed five if we had a guest room, three if Glen and Clay shared. The bathroom in the farthest corner of the house away from any living space had a full shower and bath tub. I know I'm just thinking these thoughts because I want to avoid my current predicament. It's helping the avoidance, but it's not going to help me in the long run.

"Ready?" Ashley's voice tickles my cheek comfortingly.

I don't reply because everyone already knows the answer. Chelsea and Clay lead the way, their smiles large and fake, with a tray of brownies in their hands. Brownies like the ones my mother used to cook on lazy Sunday afternoons. In the summer, she'd open the windows because the oven caused the entire kitchen to steam like a sauna. My brothers and I used to sit in there and play 20 questions while we checked on the brownies every five minutes. When they were finally done and Mom took them out, we'd have to play another 50,000 rounds before they were ready to be iced. Then she'd finally give into our begging and let us each have a little slice before dinner. But never in my memory did she take one herself.

Clay knocks on the door, and it's not opened by my mother. Glen stands behind it, a giggling Elle at his side. The giggles subside when she sees Clay and Chelsea there. Her face turns into a frown when she spots me and Ashley. True to form, Ashley grins and waves at her, but Elle(wisely, considering our last encounter) takes this as a cue to hide behind Glen. He stares at us in stony silence, his eyes full of tension about to pour onto us like an erupting volcano.

"Glen, honey, what is it?" There's that voice again. Mom's. I never realized before just how sugary it is, how fake it is, but I see that now. So does Ashley, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Does she always talk like that?" she whispers.

Mom arrives at the door, wearing one of the typical light sweaters she wears throughout the year no matter what the temperature. The sight of her makes me nauseous, terrified, and vengeful all at the same time. Ashley shifts so her arm is around my shoulder, but I'm still not convinced getting back into the car and driving away at the speed of light is the wrong thing to do.

"Don't just stand there, Glen," she laughs nervously. "Let everyone in."

Step by step, we shuffle up the sidewalk, onto the patio, right next to her. She hides it well, but I can see the disapproving glare, the sneer on her face as she looks at me. But her face displays something else more prominently, much more prominently: hurt. Disappointment. A shattering of hope. Because somewhere under her she-wolf exterior, she still is my mother, and guess part of that hoped that I'd return here "fixed"- with a boyfriend. "Spencer." She nods her head coldly, but I can't meet her gaze. I can't meet anything but the floor right now.

So the amazing Ashley takes over. "Yeah, and I'm Ashley Davies. The girlfriend. I'm sure Spencer's told you all about me."

Using my peripheral vision, I notice that my mom's face holds a mixture of shock, hatred, annoyance, and complete befuddlement.

Ashley replies in the most innocent of voices, "No? Spencer!" She's in her joking mode now, trying to lift my head up- and I mean that literally. "I thought we were closer than that!" She pokes me playfully in the stomach and I can't help it. I let the tiniest grin slip onto my face. And I lift my head up to stare my mom straight in the eye. And first thing I think is that she's aged a lot in five years.

The second thing I notice is that she doesn't seem to have any clue as to what's going on. I suppose our lesbian banter is too complicated for her closed mind to comprehend. "Well, um, come in." We enter the house, and she's about to say something, but timer beeps and she scampers off towards it.

Ashley turns to me and first thing out of her mouth is, "Okay, how come she's being so nice? Well, not exactly nice, but not exactly the Bible-thumping, homo-hater I was expecting."

I smile shyly, grimly. "Give her time. She can only keep up her candy-coated exterior for so long."

She gives me this bring-it-on sort of look. "I can't wait to see the fireworks."

We walk into the kitchen where everyone's sitting at the table. Well, Mom's setting down a thing of potatoes before taking her place on Dad's right. Dad. The only credit that I can give him is that he's a quiet guy. He used to be fun and talkative, but then Elle came out for me and he just stopped talking to me. Silent treatment, which, on most days, is preferable to my mother's incessant nagging, but on some days... Like now. He's just sitting at the table, pretending like nothing has changed, like I haven't entered the room.

"Um, excuse me?" Ashley pipes up.

"Yes?" My mother, playing the part of the perfect hostess.

"There seems to be a missing chair. Or, at least, there's only one left." Everyone focuses their attention on the two of them, who are obviously just keeping up appearances. Mom gives Ashley a face that clearly challenges Ashley to do something about it. With her lack of response, Ashley comes up with her own. "That's fine, I mean really. Spencer can just sit in my lap- it's not like she doesn't do that all the time- but I think it might make eating a little tricky."

The reactions vary with the people. Clay and Chelsea conceal grins and giggles; I'm not sure what to make of the situation, but my lips quirk up anyways; Mom's shocked expression returns to her face, her hostess persona evaporated; the sickly smile Glen had on before when he spotted the lack of chairs wipes off; Elle's mouth opens wide and she goes slack-jawed; Dad stands up, his face determined.

"I'll get it," he grunts, not looking at me or Ashley. Awkward silence ensues.

Flustered, Mom recovers quickly. "Well, one of you have a seat then."

Like the perfect girlfriend she is, Ashley pulls out the remaining chair for me, pushes it back in, and kisses me on top of the head. I immediately blush and stare into the tablecloth, attempting not to hyperventilate.

Luckily, Dad dispels the tension by coming back with the extra chair. He sets it down at the end of the table, gives Ashley the briefest of glances, and sits back down. This leaves her to drag it over next to me, forcing Clay to scoot over a little. Oddly enough, I realize there's been a place setting for her all along.

"Ashley, would you like to say grace?" It's a challenge. Mom wants her to stumble over her words, to mess up, to make a fool out of herself. But somehow I think Ashley's little more clever than that.

"Certainly, Mrs. Carlin." We all hold out our hands and close our eyes. Ashley takes my hand tighter than is appropriate and rubs her thumb on the back of it comfortingly. I haven't done anything even remotely religious in five years. When I was living with Clay, he still went to church every Sunday, but somehow I'd lost my faith. I'd been losing it for a while at that point, though, so I would've ended up on this path anyway. It's a little strange, closing my eyes and holding hands and listening to Ashley to pray to a god she doesn't even believe in.

"Dear Lord, thank you for this food and for our families. Thank you for Mrs. Carlin and what smells like awesome food, and Mr. Carlin for helping out with that chair. And thank you for both of them for raising three great children." Uh-oh. I can sense where this is going. And while part of me is horrified that she would go there, another part is horribly curious to see how it all plays out. "Thank you for Glen, who has a mean right hook, and for Clay, 'cause he married Chelsea and they've put us up while we're here. Plus, they made little Chris, who is the coolest baby ever. And last but not least for Spencer, who's the most wonderful, adorable, loving, and best girlfriend I've ever had. Oh, and thanks for letting us all live in relative safety and not have to worry about starvation, bombings, or incurable diseases. Amen."

"Amen," we all echo. I try not to smile as Ashley beams around at everyone. Mom... if looks could kill.

"Was that too long?" Ashley asks her.

Mom regains the housewife look again. "No, it was perfect. Meat, anyone?"

And dinner proceeds awkwardly. No one says much at all. That's better than I expected, and makes me think that maybe, just maybe, my only enduring memories of tonight will be of Ashley's witty words. But it all goes to hell, just as we're about to clear the table for dessert.

I take a drink from my milk, and I find Ashley smirking mischievously at me. "What?" I keep my voice low; breaking the silence gives me an odd sensation in my stomach.

"You have the cutest milk mustache," she explains happily. Then, she reaches down, pulls my napkin off my lap, wipes it away, and readjusts the napkin back on my lap. "There. All better."

"Keep your hands off my daughter." Mom's seething; she's reached her limit. And things are about to get memorable in the worst way.

"Excuse me?" Ashley's temper shoots right to the top, ready to defend.

"You heard me."

"Exactly. I'm confused as to why you're telling me to keep my hands off my girlfriend, when it's common practice for couples to be touchy-feely." Maybe not the best word choice there. I sink lower into my chair; I don't want to be part of this discussion.

"How do you know that's what she wants?" Mom fires back weakly.

Ashley shrugs. "I dunno; let's ask her. Spence, do like having me hold your hand, hug you, etc.?"

"Yes," I manage meekly. I'm rewarded for my "bravery" when Ashley puts her arm around my shoulders and draws me closely.

"She doesn't know what she wants!" my mom yells.

"Doesn't know?" Ashley repeats incredulously. "I think it's perfectly clear what she wants. I think it's also perfectly clear that you are the one who has a problem with it!"

"Because it is a problem!"

"No," Ashley breathes out, her anger somewhere beyond rage now. "The problem is the way your disgust made her act. She dated boys, for God's sake! That's not who she is; you have to see that!"

"Who she is can be changed!" Mom shouts.

"Mom," Clay puts in.

"No, Clay. This isn't for you to decide." Mom's real mad now, I can tell. The neighbors can probably tell, too.

"Yeah, and it's not for you to decide either!" Ashley shoots at her.

"Oh?" Mom's voice is full to the brimming with sarcasm. "And I suppose it's your decision?"

"No," Ashley replies simply with no anger or animosity. "It's Spencer's decision. If she chose to walk out on me, to tell me she hated me, then I would let her. You know why? Because I love her enough to let her choose!" Love? That's a new one for us, one I might not be ready for.

But I don't have time to dwell on it, because Mom stands up, banging the table with her fist. "You cannot love her! People like you are incapable of love!"

Ashley gives her the most disbelieving, pissed-of, sarcastic smile. "People like me? You mean _gay_ people? _Lesbians_? Gee, I'm sorry for trying to offer her support, comfort, love, hope, help, anything positive. Because God forbid the person she finds to hold is another woman. If I got a sex change, would that make things better?"

"Out." One simple word that conveys so many things, especially in its numb tone.

"What?"

"You heard me. Out of my house. Now!" Ashley doesn't hesitate; she pushes out her chair and grabs my hand. We go to the front, out on the porch step.

"I suppose you think you won," Ashley tells her as she prepares to slam the door in our faces. "Well, you didn't. Because I can go home tonight, hug Spencer tightly, and know that I did the right thing. I can know that I won because I still have her." She stomps off, but I'm too stunned to move. And that second is all Mom needs to pounce.

"Spencer-"

"Save it." I'm empowered, I'm finally feeling what Ashley's been feeling this whole time. "You can tell me you hate me or that I'm going to Hell or that you can fix me, that Ashley's not a good person, that you don't love me anymore. You can tell me all that, just like you did five years ago. But you wanna know the difference? Now I can you tell you I don't care." Aside from the feeling of confidence I acquire by leaving my speechless mother in my wake, I feel like I just want to cry forever.

And there's Ashley, waiting to wrap me into a warm hug. A safe hug. The most innocent of hugs, all waiting for me.

Some of part of me acknowledges that the two of us did something great today: we walked into that dinner expecting to be shred to pieces and we came out with our innocence.


End file.
